More Than An Act
by author1993
Summary: Kurt's life up until this point has been, well, unconvential to say the least. Now is his life is being flipped upside down and he's about to find that the world is a much bigger, more complicated, and possibly even brighter place than he ever imagined.
1. Prologue

**Okay so this is a very AU idea that just popped into my head and I thought, why not give it try? Not sure how long it will be but most likely at least novella length. Updates will also probably be slow so sorry in advance, busy busy. Anyway I like to figure things out as I go when I read so I kept the summary kind of vague but if you want more of an idea of where this is going look at the next paragraph. Otherwise, skip to the story start. I hope you enjoy. **

**Alright so Kurt grew up in a circus where the performers are basically slaves, outcasts of society. Kurt does dance like routines on a trampoline while singing. His circus name is Porcelain, and his act is called, (and I cringe as I type this because I hate the word) "The Fantastic Fag." When a fire breaks out during one of the shows the police arrive and imprison the owner for human rights abuses. Some of the performers go back to what's left of their life. Others, including Kurt, have never known a life outside the circus (Kurt will seem incongruently happy considering his past through most of the story for this reason) and are taken into social custody to be assimilated into normal society. Kurt ends up being sent to board at Dalton Academy for Boys where he makes many friends, including of course one Blaine Anderson, and slowly grows into actually living life, like he never knew he could. There will be Klaine, I would like to give it good development but I'm not sure how long my willpower will hold because they're just too cute. But yeah, that's pretty much what I've got so far. Onwards!**

"Here, Kurt," the woman said gently, "This is your uniform, you can change in the bathroom across the hall."

The pale brunette sat on a plush arm chair in the ornate room, looking out the window. A well kept and landscaped lawn spread out beneath the blue sky. A lone, black tree stood in the distance, its leaves vibrant and autumn colored. The wind rustled through them making them look almost like flames. The boy's breath caught as a distinctly different fire flared in his eyes.

"Kurt?" The woman's voice was even softer now and accompanied by a hand on his shoulder. _Kurt._ Right, that was him. He'd said it when he came in, "Hello, I'm Kurt Hummel," but it had felt strange and he still wasn't accustomed to answering to it. His own name was foreign to him; then again everything these days was foreign.

He turned to the woman who was holding a brown bag on a hanger. He took the bag without meeting her eyes, and then quickly turned to the door.

He was stopped by the lady there. Miss Rowe. _Social worker_. He ran the words over in his mind for the billionth time trying to cement them. She specialized in severe and unusual cases of neglect with a focus on societal assimilation. She'd explained it to him twice. The words still meant nothing, but he knew she was helping him adapt to all the…new…stuff. He lacked the words to describe the dramatic changes his life had recently undergone.

Bringing himself back to the present, he processed what she'd just said. "Head up, and say thank you." He cursed himself for forgetting. These were basic manners, she'd been so patient going over them again and again, and he'd still screwed them up. Her tone was informative and supportive, a patient reminder; however that didn't stop the feeling flared in his gut, _fear_; they'd identified for him.

He quelled it quickly. No, that reaction didn't belong anymore. It was different now. _Everything_ was _so_ different. Miss Rowe had told him that rate at which he was picking things up was impressive, but he still felt so unaware.

He turned back to the first woman, meeting her gaze, while every fiber in his body tensed at the action. "Thank you," he tried a small smile that felt strained to him but the woman smiled back and nodded and returned to her desk.

Letting out a breath he scurried across the hall into the bathroom and tore the bag open. There was a mirror but he didn't give it a second glance as he changed. Mirrors were new to Kurt, but suddenly they were every where. He couldn't understand the fascination. His first encounter was quite alarming.

For the first few days he'd been confined to a bed in a large papery feeling t-shirt. When they'd finally allowed him to leave Miss Rowe and brought him some clothes and given him similar instructions to those he'd just received.

_He pulled the pants up, jumping a little to avoid standing on the legs. He turned slightly as he jumped and an image caught his eye to the left, surprising him so thoroughly he stumbled back into the wall away from it._

_There was a pale young boy whose entire being seemed both physically and emotionally sunk into himself. The pale gray tinged skin suggested years of days spent in the dark and a severe lack of nutrition, as did the clearly outlined ribs and sharp angles of every joint and his face. A face with wide bright glasz gray eyes; flat eyes that seemed to know the crinkle of neither laugh nor frown lines, but seemed heavy and tired. _

_While his brain quickly recognized his reflection, his own shocked expression staring obviously back at him, it was an entirely separate, and exceptionally more difficult matter for him to consciously and concretely grasp and accept the idea that this pitiful picture was him. He'd never thought of himself as such, and suddenly the way everyone was always looking at him with sad eyes, speaking in soft voices and laying gentle hands on him as if he would shatter at the slightest touch made sense._

_He huffed and reached for the shirt, done with the reflective surface, the _mirror_, he would be informed when he asked. His eyes could not not glance over the marks on his chest and make as he did so though, things he seen a million times but never with the whole picture…never with a face. _

_His stomach rolled, a new reaction to ancient marks; and it unnerved him a bit because he could find no reason in his mind for the change._

With a deep breath, pulling on the sleeves of the stiff jacket of the uniform, he now turned to look in the mirror of the current bathroom. An odd feeling surged inside him as he realized he looked fairly normal…healthier at least and much more comparable to the average overall appearance of others he encountered than he had those weeks ago in the hospital, as they had called it.

Retrieving the hanger, bag, and his discarded clothes he returned to the office across the hall where the two women were speaking in whispered tones.

Neither of them noticed his entrance. Kurt, _Kurt he repeated in his mind, he must think it if he ever wants to feel comfortable with it, _cleared his throat awkwardly, not sure what to do now.

Miss Rowe's head snapped quickly and she broke into a wide smile, "Oh Kurt, you look dashing!"

Kurt eyebrows crinkled at the comment, trying to remember the word for it….a compliment…she's paid him a compliment. Nice things people said to one another, it'd been part of his etiquette training. Kurt shuffled his feet as blood rushed to his face in a strange sensation. "Th-thank you," he stuttered out; he would not forget again.

The other woman rose, also rose, coming over with a smile and smoothing the shoulder of the jacket, "Yes it does seem to suit him doesn't it. Yes I'm quite certain you'll fall right in step with the other boys in no time," she nodded encouragingly.

Kurt hoped she was right. He'd been going to "school" for a couple weeks now, and had recently finished assimilation training, but up until this point it had all been one on one. When he was told that he was going to a boarding school where he would study with hundreds of students his age he wasn't sure if he was excited or nervous. Miss Rowe had assured him he was ready and would do splendid, but Kurt was still hesitant, enthralled with the concept yes, but hesitant.

"Well, that's just about everything then, I'll just go and fetch his schedule then," the woman uttered scurrying out of the room.

Miss Rowe turned to him, smiling fondly, but with what seemed to be sadness in her eyes, though Kurt couldn't imagine why. "Well, this is it Kurt, where we part. I want you to know that I'm very proud of you," she said laying a hand on his shoulder. I beamed, happy to please her after all her help.

"You've come so far. You're a clever boy Kurt, and quite an _entertaining_ person." She smiled ruefully and I laughed. She didn't stop smiling but her eyes grew serious and her hand on my shoulder tightened slightly as she continued. "But you're more than an act Kurt, remember that. I hope you'll let your personality blossom here."

Her eyes bored into mind and I was not sure how to respond, only having a hazy comprehension of what she meant. I was saved as the woman returned. "Alright we're all set then. You can still catch the last half of History before lunch Kurt. I'll be happy to take you there when you're ready."

"He's ready," Miss Rowe said smiling and giving me a wink before she broke away to shake the other woman's hand, "It's been a pleasure, I appreciate all your help."

"Of course, have a nice day," she returned as Miss Rowe turned to leave with one last pat on my shoulder.

"Wait!" The meant to be whispered thought came out as a shout and the whole room froze. I rubbed the back of my neck, nervous and embarrassed as I took a step toward Miss Rowe. "Sorry, I just—um—well…thank you…for, well for everything," I sighed at my poor attempt at eloquence. "…Really it means a lot." I was having a hard time keeping Miss Rowe's gaze, but I refused to look away, years of training be damned.

"Oh, Kurt," she sighed, reaching forward and pulling me into and embrace. I wrapped my arms tightly around her, surprising myself, but it felt right; it felt _comforting_. She pulled back and ran a hand through my hair in a motherly way, at least it was how I imagined a mother would do it. "I was more than happy to do it," she beamed at me. "My number's in your cell, you can call me if you ever need anything, okay?"

I nodded, my heart a little calmer with the knowledge.

"Good luck, Kurt, I'll be checking in," she said giving me another quick hug before turning and walking out the door. I watched the empty space for a moment before swallowing slowly and turning back to the other woman.

She was standing by another door with a binder, folder, and some papers and smiling softly. "You ready?" she asked.

_As I'll ever be_, remarked the sarcastic voice in Kurt's that has been growing stronger ever day since…he…restarted. Instead he said, "Yes," and followed her out the door, down the gorgeously adorned and polished hall, up a flight of red carpeted stairs, and down another hallway before the pair stopped at two heavy wooden doors.

"Now this is a lecture style class, so it's quite big. The rest are much smaller but it's nothing to be intimidated about okay?"

Kurt nodded, bracing himself as she opened one of the doors, revealing a large room with what he assumed to be around 50 students sitting is seats that raised toward the back of the room, and facing a chalk board at which a man was scribbling with vigor, speaking animatedly. "…and that, gentlemen, is where we come in."

The woman stood to the side holding the door open and motioned him in. "Kurt Hummel, welcome to Dalton Academy."


	2. Chapter 1

**Bet you thought I died, huh? Nope just my computer, but after ordering a couple parts and weeks of waiting for the shipment we're back in business. Sorry about that. :/**

**Anyways I noticed reading the last chapter that I unintentionally slipped into Kurt's POV for a little bit. I was thinking about editing it but then I like the angle it gave. If I decide to go out of third person again though I'll try to make it more distinct. Sorry again. Now, Onwards!**

The man at the board turned to look at the two in the door. "Oh, Hello Amy, and who is this?"

The woman put a hand on Kurt's shoulder, catching his attention which had been distracted as he took in the room.

"Richard, this is our new student _Kurt Hummel_," she said pointedly. Recognition flashed in the professor's eyes. Sure Dalton's zero-tolerance policies and general high level of function had prompted many transfers over the years, a fair share of which had dealt with such…delicate cases that the school had seen fit to brief its faculty on their situations. But even having worked at the school for 25 years, Richard Simmons could definitely say that the briefing for one Kurt Hummel was one he hadn't quite figured how to take.

Before he could put together a response though, Kurt Hummel, mistaking the tone as meant to break his awed state, had taken three hurried steps over to him and extended his hand, "Kurt Hummel, sir."

He gave a tight smile at the formal greeting, "Mr. Simmons, Kurt. Though these monkeys tend to stick to just Simmons," he said gesturing to the class fondly. "Welcome aboard," he patted him on the back as he turned to pick up his chalk.

"I was thinking it would be good for Kurt to have someone to show him around while he adjusts," the woman remarked her eyes sliding over the room before landing on a curly-haired dapper looking boy sitting in the first row. "Good I borrow Blaine for a moment."

"Of course," Simmons answered turning back to the class as the boy followed the secretary out of the room with a confused expression. "Montgomery, Anderson has escorting to do, you know the drill," he joked, hiking a thumb over his shoulder in a "move it" gesture.

Kurt saw the young man who had been seated beside the student who had just exited begin to gather his stuff in preparation to change seats.

"That's not necessary—I mean you don't need to move, I can sit there, I _was_ late," Kurt murmured, pointing at an empty seat towards the back embarrassed at the amount of action associated with his arrival.

The boy, Montgomery, gave him a look but continued to the seat in the back. "No worries man, and I don't think you can be late when you probably didn't have a schedule when the class started," he said grinning as he took a seat.

Kurt looked at the vacated seat but didn't move. It didn't seem right to him, someone who _belonged_ here moving for him. "You sure?" he questioned.

He looked up from where he had already resumed taking notes. "Yeah, plus you're new, easier to make friends in the front than the back. Me? I could use a break from the spot light," he laughed leaning back in his chair.

Kurt stared at him at him not sure what to make of that. "Kidding," the boy said setting his chair back down when Kurt can just continued to stare, now looking even more uncertain.

_Right,_ Kurt berated his social awkwardness, _He was joking, teenagers joke, and you should laugh, even if you don't get it. "Half of them probably never know what they're laughing at anyway," Miss Rowe had assured him—shoot, the boy was speaking to him!_

"Look it's Kurt right?" Kurt nodded. "Wes," the boy said gesturing to himself. "And I insist you take my seat, consider it my personal welcome to Dalton," Wes said with a friendly smile before holding a hand to one side of his face and stage whispering, "However if you want to stand there for a bit more Simmons hasn't scribbled something illegible with far too much excitement in nearly ten minutes and we could go for a record."

At these words Simmons jumped out of his observations of the boy on his left and turned back to the board. "Right where were we? Oh yes! So then…"

With the attention turned away, Kurt finally conceded to taking the seat the boy, Wes, had vacated, and opening a new notebook began to attempt coping the nearly indiscernible script on the board, hoping he could make sense of the material later.

Meanwhile out in the hall the boy and the secretary were speaking right outside the door. "You don't mind showing Kurt around do you Blaine?" she asked.

"Of course not Mrs. Perry," Blaine responded, "but is there something else? I've escorted lots of new kids, it doesn't usually require a private request," he noted gesturing to their position in the empty hall way.

"No, not exactly something _else_," she said, "It's just that, well….you know Dalton takes a lot of…special transfer cases, I mean you were one, but…"

"So he was bullied?" Blaine asked, calling up the image of the boy in his mind. The lithe form, build of perhaps a dancer, the high voice, the beautiful face. It made sense. Wait—did he just say beautiful?

"Not bullied exactly," Mrs. Perry hesitated, "Look Blaine, you know I can't talk to you about other kids' files, but let's just say that Kurt's upbringing has been…unconventional, to say the least." She paused trying to figure out how to continue while Blaine tried to decipher what she meant.

"He just might need a bit more guidance than some of the other kids have, this is all very new to him. He going to confused by everyday things, and might react strangely to normal events….He's just going to need someone, well, adjusted. I know I've probably just confused you more and it's a lot to ask but—"

"Of course I'll do it," Blaine interrupted what was quickly becoming a plea. He was a little uneased by her vagueness but the kid seemed nice enough and Blaine was a people person. Plus he knew what it was like to need a friend, and was all about being that person for someone else.

"Good," she said smiling, settled. "And it's not as though you be on your own, he has a tutor who will work with him most of every Sunday, and a couple others with be checking in periodically to see how he's doing, I just thought it might be nice to have a peer to help him fit in." Blaine nodded.

"Alright, well thanks for being so understanding, and willing," she said smiling fondly. "You're a good kid, Blaine. And I'm sure you'll be friends in no time. He's really very sweet, and though he hasn't had a lot of formal schooling, quite clever." She turned and started walking down the hallway.

Blaine's hand was on the hall when she called back, "Oh, and Blaine?" He turned to look at her. "He likes music," she winked as she turned the corner.

Blaine smiled, well that was something he could definitely work with he thought as he re-entered the classroom.

**Eeeek, short! Sorry, just seemed like a good stopping point, but I actually should be able to update tomorrow *fingers crossed***

**Also, if you picked up on it yes my Blaine wears his hair curly because I find that adorable and the gelled look just takes me to school plays and giant disgusting bottles of the stuff being slathered on guys' heads….yeah.**

**If there are mistakes in this I apologize, it was started at 1 in the morning with insomnia. Now it's 3 AM, that's gone, and I hate editing when I'm not pinning my eyes open so yeah…**

**Sorry for my rambles, that's also to do with the late hour. If you leave a review you will make someone (me) smile for a week straight. No joke it happened.**


	3. Chapter 2

**Gah! This was supposed to come out so much sooner I swear. But see the thing is my town has this thing called Italian Fest and nothing else happens that weekend. Sorry. Then I might have had an all day Glee Project marathon with my best friend including screaming and happy dancing when Damian was safe…yeah love him. But none of that is really an excuse for having this chapter planned the day after my last update and then neglecting is for nearly a week…so, apologies. Thanks for the reviews, I really appreciate them. ****Now, Onwards!**

Kurt's head shot up the moment Blaine opened the door, though oddly did not make eye contact, Blaine noted. He just kind of glanced at him out of the corner of his eye without turning his head.

Blaine made his way to his seat and turned to the boy extending a hand, "I'm Blaine, I'll be showing you around."

"Kurt," he said softly returning the hand shake. Blaine noticed the boy's hand was cold, the way his got when he was nervous. He also could help but feel there was a rehearsed rigid feel to the way Kurt grasped his hand, not too light, not too firm. Meeting his gaze, he saw the uncertainty in the gorgeous _(dammit Blaine, you just met the guy!)_ eyes that were simultaneously ocean blue and evergreen overcast with cloudy gray. _Unconventional…hmm,_ he rolled the word Mrs. Perry had used around in his mind, trying to get a read on the boy.

Now Kurt was no expert on handshakes but he was pretty sure it wasn't supposed to take this long. The boy, Blaine, had been holding his hand for several moments now, staring at him and was making him slightly uncomfortable, especially considering he was staring right back. "Yeah, um, thanks, that's very….nice of you," he said breaking the gaze and glancing around the room.

"Sure thing," Blaine said with a smile removing his hand and returning to his notes.

Kurt let out a sigh as he did the same.

xxx

The sound of the bell was practically simultaneous with the stampede that was a horde of private school boys basically racing to lunch.

Blaine smirked, thinking of the short-cut he used everyday which left them baffled when they stormed into the cafeteria to find him already in line. Today however he hung back, as Kurt had yet to move but stared with wide eyes as the boys flew past him and out the door.

"Woah," he whispered when the last cleared the room, then he noticed Blaine standing beside him, bag packed up and on his shoulder. He jumped up and hurriedly started shoving things in his own bag."Oh! Sorry, we're probably supposed to be with them huh? Sorry, I didn't mean to hold you back, I just—oh no, are we going to be late, I—"

"Relax Kurt," Blaine stopped him, putting a hand on his shoulder, as he leaned over to pick up his bag. "Its just lunch, we can take our time. And yet you'll notice no one will be rushing when it is actually time for class. Boys will be boys," he laughed, flashing a wide easy grin as Kurt stood.

"Oh, okay," Kurt said, calmed by the explanation. Blaine turned and walked to the door, looking back halfway through when he realized Kurt hadn't moved.

"You coming?"

"Oh, yeah." Kurt said, quickly following him out into the hall.

"So," Blaine began as they made their way to the cafeteria, "Where are you from?"

Kurt's mind flooded and emptied at once. Miss Rowe and he had gone over all the typical questions a new student would be asked, trying to stick to the truth as much as possible without really addressing his…situation. As such they had ended up with a bunch carefully worded, vague responses Kurt was now trying desperately to remember.

"Uh, I've moved around a lot." He said.

Blaine glanced at him with a quirk of the eyebrows, "Okay…so where were you last?"

A newspaper heading flashed in Kurt's mind, bold letters across the top proclaiming **Chicago Daily Tribune**. "Chicago," he whispered.

"Ah, the windy city, cool!" Blaine responded enthusiastically, only gaining a noncommittal hum of acknowledgement from Kurt. He hadn't really seen very much of it. In fact, for someone who had been all over the country, he had a remarkably small experience of the world.

"Uh…" Blaine drawled, trying to find something to spark conversation with the guy. "So what do you like to do?"

"What do you mean?" questioned Kurt, not sure what he was getting at.

"Like in your spare time, for fun you know?" Blaine continued. "Hobbies? Interests? That sort of thing."

"Oh, yeah, of course," Kurt said, mentally slapping himself for missing something so obvious, but hey it's not exactly like he'd ever been asked that before. It required a frame of reference unknown to him just a few short months ago. He shook his head, realizing Blaine was looking at him, waiting for answer. "I…" Kurt let his eyes dropped to the floor suddenly finding the flooring fascinating. It shouldn't be a hard question, he knew, but there was really only one thing, and it _was so complicated_.

Blaine was fairly oblivious most of the time, but he wasn't dense. This wasn't exactly a deep question and yet Kurt was definitely hesitating, struggling for words, and his eyes were glued to the floor. Blaine didn't really wanted to push it, but if he was going to be hanging out with the kid for at least the next couple days he would need something to talk about. Then again…. "Mrs. Perry said you like music," he offered.

"Oh, yeah, well I like to sing," he breathed. "I play the piano a bit," he continued trying to block out images of a grinning woman out of his head, "and…dance, kind of." He said, lips quirking as he adjusted the details.

The hesitance in Kurt's answer, the confliction in his voice, there was something more there, Blaine noted. Still he decided to let it go. "Cool! I'm in the Warblers, our glee club. You should come to practice, try out!"

Kurt knitted is eyebrows together trying to figure out if he could make any sense out of the boys excited sentence. He huffed, Miss Rowe had advised that when (if in Kurt's mind) he made friends or spent considerable time with someone he would have to own up to being a little well…unaware. He didn't really think it'd be this soon, but he couldn't really see another way out of this. Blaine seemed nice enough, hopefully he wouldn't laugh. "Sorry, what's a glee club?" he asked.

"Uhh…its like a show choir…" Blaine trailed off seeing no sign of recognition in the boys eyes.

Kurt sighed, feeling utterly ignorant. "And that is?"

Blaine's eyebrows quirked, a bit of bewildered amusement in his eyes, but before he could respond Kurt continued, "I'm sorry, I'm sure it's a stupid question, it's just—where I'm from—no I mean," he stopped taking a deep breath trying to form a coherent explanation. He really had no ability to lie, but Miss Rowe had advised him that while he certainly was allowed to share his story, others might not know how to…react, and it would be prudent to keep the specifics of it to himself, playing it off as innocence until he settled in and go to know and trust some of the other students. So being vague was his middle ground, because he was so much better at _that_. "I just haven't really gone to school with other kids before, or even been around other people that much…I've been…." he searched for the word Miss Rowe had supplied him with, saying that while it didn't quite fit, it should placate anybody asking questions. "…kinda _sheltered_, I guess," he finished hoping that was the right one.

_Wow_, Blaine thought as he watched the kid struggle to explain himself, _He is trying so hard._ Blaine had no idea what Kurt meant when he said sheltered but he was fairly sure that it was a little more extreme than he was letting on. This kid's story was really starting to intrigue him. But as he looked at Kurt, looking so, utterly _ashamed_ that he didn't know what a show choir was, he knew now was not the time. Now was time to befriend this kid, because Blaine could practically feel the void around him of anyone like that. And plus he wanted to befriend him, make those gorgeous eyes stop staring at the ground, make that incredible voice speak freely, make those lips smile._ Yeah, it sounds like you want to be friends_, that little voice in the back of Blaine's head to which he banished all his undapper thoughts to remarked sarcastically. He quickly pushed it back into its little corner of his mind, and focused on the boy in front of him, who was now scuffing his foot into the floor.

"Hey, it's not stupid," he reassured him, a gentle hand on the shoulder finally getting him to raise his eyes, before they flashed away quickly, but at least not down this time. "Everybody's raised differently, its nothing to be ashamed of."

Kurt's eyes met his in an expression Blaine couldn't read, not that he was observing much other than their sudden shocking shade of blue.

Kurt meanwhile was desperately searching for something in Blaine's face that assured him what he said was genuine and not just comforting words. Something to make him believe that the truth wouldn't scare him off, because although she'd never been so forward with it, Kurt was intuitive enough to know that's what Miss Rowe had been getting at when she had advised him against being _open_ about himself. What he knew as the only way of life might be disturbing to others, she had explained.

He couldn't really understand why or wrap his head around that, couldn't bring himself to be ashamed of it as Blaine had insinuated. Still her warnings had put adequate doubt in his head that the idea that Blaine didn't necessarily care about his background was enough to make him hope that he wouldn't have to keep up the shallow act forever. For that was the thing he _was_ ashamed of. That he was so bad at this, despite all the guidance given to him in the last few months, he really was so, well ignorant of the world. And it was that knowledge that spurred the little nagging thought in the back of his mind. _You don't belong here, you don't deserve this. God! You're too stupid to even remember a freaking cover story without butchering it_. But maybe, maybe if someone knew, someone like Blaine, he could learn.

"A glee club, or a show choir," Blaine continued drawing back Kurt's attention, "is a group of people, generally at a school, who like to sing and put together musical performances and compete in choir competitions, usually in costume, or in our case uniforms, and sometimes even a little dancing is involved," he explained, nudging Kurt in the shoulder with a wink as they reached the cafeteria.

"Oh," was all Kurt could manage as his mind absorbed the information. _Singing, performing…like—no._

"So what do you say?" Blaine asked as they made their way through the buffet line, "Want to come check it out, we have practice after school today."

"Sure," Kurt said biting his lip. He was really confused. "Can you excuse me for a second," he asked Blaine.

"Uh, yeah sure," Blaine said noticing the way Kurt's eyebrows were pulled together impossibly tight over darkened eyes as he bit his lip.

"Thank you," he said before fleeing the room. Blaine shrugged before grabbing both their trays and heading to a table with his friends.

Kurt's head was spinning with questions. He didn't know if he was scared, or excited, or what. He needed guidance, and as much as he felt helpless doing it he knew where he could get it.

Pulling out the cell phone he'd been shown how to use he quickly found Miss Rowe's number and hit send.

She picked up on the second ring, "Kurt?"

"Miss Rowe! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you so soon, it's just, I…"

"Don't worry about it Kurt, I told you, you can call me for anything. Is something wrong?"

"I…I don't know, I'm so confused," he confessed

"That's alright Kurt. We knew this wasn't going to be easy. Why don't you tell me what's going on and I'll see if I can help."

So Kurt went over he and Blaine's conversation about glee club. "…and he asked me if I want to come check it out after school. I don't know what to do. I mean I want to sing, I do. I will. But you said that I didn't have to anymore. That I wasn't going to. It wasn't like that here. I don't what I'm supposed to do with that, who I'm supposed to be. I'm sorry, I'm screwing up already. I just can't put it together. Blaine seems nice, he seems like you. But he wants me to sing, and I've always only sung for Ma—"

"Kurt," Miss Rowe cut him off as began talking faster and faster, verging on hysterics.

He yelped at the sudden interruption, "Sorry. I'm sorry, I just…"

"It's alright, Kurt," she said. "I meant what I said. No one is going to make you sing. I'm sure Blaine is a nice kid if he showing you around. He _asked_ you if you _wanted_ to come to glee club practice. Asked, no ones making you do anything."

"Oh," Kurt said, feeling like he was saying it a lot that day, but hey, he was taking in a lot. Like the prospect of making a decision based on what _he_ wanted. "Well what do you think I should do?"

"You should do what you want Kurt," she began, "If you feel comfortable going and you think Blaine is nice it could be fun, and help you make friends. Plus, music has certainly proven to be calming for you. However I will say this, if you do choose to go I don't think you should join, at least for now. Singing could be a great comfort for you Kurt, but I think you need to take a break from performing for a while to make it really something positive. Just, sing for yourself for a while, and maybe in the future you can share it, because you _want _to. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, actually it does," he laughed softly glad something did.

"Good, you know, despite what you might think, you're very intuitive about this stuff. You just need a little direction right now, but in no time you will start to see it yourself."

"Thanks," Kurt replied blushing, "I hope you're right."

"Oh, just trust me," she said. _Trust, yeah_ Kurt thought_ I could trust her, I can._

"Alright, thank you, I think I'm going to go, check it out like he said. I just won't sing."

"That sounds like a good plan Kurt. I've got to go, good luck!" she said warmly.

"Bye," Kurt said closing the phone. He took a breath and re-entered the cafeteria, his gaze quickly find Blaine at a table with several other boys. He made his way over tentatively.

Blaine glanced up as he neared, "Oh hey, Kurt!" he said patting the seat next to him which Kurt took, glad it was at the end, slightly overwhelmed by the table full of boys. "You only had a couple slices a bread on your tray so I just grabbed a bit of everything," Blaine added gesturing to the plate in front of Kurt.

He glanced down at it and his eyes bulged slightly. He knew _normal_ teenage boys had big appetites, but seriously? He couldn't eat that in a month. However he just smiled at Blaine and said "Thanks," and began to pick through it.

"Yeah, sure, no problem," Blaine said glancing around to see that the rest of the boys were wrapped up in a rather dramatic conversation about changing the piping on their Warblers' jackets. He turned to Kurt and said in a hushed tone, "You know you only have to come to Warblers practice if you want to, I just figured because you like to sing…well, just don't feel pressured or anything." He had noticed the way the boy had fled and could not imagine why but certainly didn't want to force anything.

"No, no, I'd like to," Kurt said, surprising himself at the confidence in his voice. "Just to check it out though, I think I should take some time to settle in and adjust before I get involved, you know?" He said using the phrase Blaine so often concluded his thoughts with, liking the ring it had.

"Yeah, sure, that makes sense." Blaine responded smiling, knowing himself he was far to happy to hear Kurt was coming even for a day.

He turned to the rest of the table, "Hey guys, Kurt here is gonna come by Warbler practice today!" He said excitedly.

Suddenly Kurt was barraged with voices.

"Awesome!"

"What's you're favorite song?"

"What do you sing?"

"RED PIPING OR BLUE?"

"GUYS!" Blaine shouted, silencing the buzz, "It is seriously unfair for you to unleash your insanity on anybody that is not accustomed or prepared for it!" he lectured, his serious tone marred by his grin and the way his eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Blaine right guys," Kurt recognized Wes from History class speaking up, "We are making a terrible impression of the dignified organization that is the Dalton Academy Warblers," he said sitting a little straighter.

It was at this moment that the boys sitting across from Wes launched a spoon full of peas into his face.

"DAVID!" he roared jumping up and taking off after the boy who was already well clear of his seat and laughing maniacly.

Kurt swore his very blood froze at the roar, but he noticed that same gleam Blaine had just had in his eyes in Wes's and his heart began to beat again. He was fully placated when the other boy, David, stopped dead and turned around, catching Wes as he slammed into him and swinging him around, causing him to join in the laughter.

Blaine turned laughing to take in Kurt's shocked face. "They're like three-year olds when you put them together, but you get used to it, somehow, I swear."

Kurt observed how the two boys returned to the table with huge smiles, even as Wes growled playfully, "You will pay for that, Thomson," He turned to Blaine with a wicked grin. "How do you feel about another Katy Perry number?" Blaine gleeful shout was simultaneous with David's desperate "NO!" as he slammed his head on the table, as everyone else laughed.

The dynamic was completely foreign to Kurt, but he agreed. It was definitely something he could get used to.

**Hmmm…..well this was incredibly difficult to write (like one paragraph took an entire hour to get right, MADDENING!), I hope it came out okay, especially since it's considerably longer than the others. Let me know what you think either way! Hope to update again today or tomorrow considering work will be insanity the next four days after that and spare time will be spent sleeping. Oh the joys of NASCAR weekend, anyway I'll stop complaining now. Sorry about that. **

**P.S. Whose excited for the Glee Live 3D Movie? SO going to the midnight premiere ****!**

**P.P.S. Re-reading this I found my obsession with Chris Colfer's eyes seeping through. I would apologize but everybody should really be taking note of them anyway. I mean ****.com/watch?v=CHMjsp4HxkQ**** at 1:34, go check it out…yeah. Goodness, I have a problem, haha **


	4. Chapter 3

**So before working on this I read through what I'd already done already including my last AN that said the next chapter would be up in the next two days. Yeah…..*hides in corner, full of shame.* A million apologies. I wanted to get that out because I left for college the next week because I knew it would be a while before the next update. But I didn't get it out and the next update never happened. I don't have an excuse but I have about a month long break now so we'll see what we can do with that. Onwards!**

Kurt supposed that "one" would say the rest of his day passed uneventfully. That "one," however, would not be him.

Sure to the average teenage boy an afternoon of Algebra, Biology, and a study period may just seem a couple dragging hours of mundane existence, but for Kurt it was a world of new experiences.

Blaine had led him to the Algebra room after lunch chatting excitedly about the Warblers and practice that afternoon. Kurt was only following some of it but couldn't help but grin at Blaine's eagerness to explain and share what was obviously his passion. Kurt found his positive energy magnetic, putting him at ease despite the overwhelming sea of new surroundings that was school.

At the door Blaine bid Kurt a cheerful farewell with the promise to return to lead him to his next class before heading off to pre-calculus. Looking over schedules at the end of lunch the two had found that they actually only shared a few classes. Kurt drew from the conversation and input of the other Warblers characters that Blaine was at least a moderately advanced student.

He knew his education was seriously lacking. He had learned basic math, reading, and writing over his years for necessity purposes but there had never really been room or concern for anything else. He was fairly sure by that measure that some of his classes were commonly taken at a younger year. It embarrassed him, again bring that creeping feeling that he didn't belong. Blaine however made no comment besides that he wished they had more classes together, but he could make it work.

Kurt found algebra understandable enough. He did not find it terribly interesting and certainly did not see math becoming his forte in the future but based on his one on one experience with his teacher during training he felt he could pick up enough in the class so that he could do a fair amount of the work without the assistance of the tutor who would come that weekend.

Upon entering the classroom Kurt and walked with as much confidence as he could muster (which was actually a fair amount, the day was going well so far after all) up to the desk and introduced himself as Mrs. Perry had told him to when they had been filling out his paper work.

The man at the desk looked up, interest popping behind thick bi-focals for a moment before an incredibly blasé demeanor settled back into place. "Yes, Mr. Hummel" he said handing Kurt a textbook. "There's a seat beside Mr. Van Kamp **(1)** there, near the front on the left, little one with the curly blond hair," the man drawled on his eyes already returned to the papers on his desk as he gestured in the air with vague direction.

Kurt turned and scanned the room as he did so noticing a boy whose head popped up out of his book at the sound of what must have been his name.

Kurt made his way over. "Hi!" he said cheerily still of a bit of a high from the exciting lunch. "I'm Kurt!" He extended a hand.

The boy, who Kurt could now tell was quite short, shorter than Blaine, though he did seem to be a couple years younger, took his hand quickly, giving it one light shake before letting go. "Reed," he said. Kurt noted the way he nearly bounced in the chair with an air somewhere between nervous and excited.

Reed shuffled and turned towards him as Kurt took his seat. "You're new, aren't you?" he questioned.

"Oh, yes." Kurt responded, bewildered by the kid's knowledge. "How did you know?"

"It may be an all-boys school but that doesn't mean gossip doesn't get around. Plus, we're kind of a couple weeks into class and I haven't seen you yet. Of course you might have been on holiday, lots of the boys here go on extended ones. I shouldn't jump to conclusions. It's a habit of mine. I say what I'm thinking, before I even really think about it. It can really get me into just dreadful situations. In fact, I'm rambling now, it's only a matter of time. I'll just stop talking. I'm sure you don't want this annoying little freshman talking to you anyway. I mean you were sitting with the Warblers! On your first day!"

The boy sighed sadly taking his first breath. Kurt just stared at him in awe, which Reed mistook for distaste.

"Sorry!" he squeaked. "Shutting up now," and with that he hunched back over his notebook.

Kurt laughed. He knew shouldn't have and regretted it instantly at the hurt look on the boy's face, but honestly, he was as excitable as a baby monkey.

"I'm sorry," Kurt said earnestly, "It's just you have a very entertaining personality." Reed did not look comforted. "It's not a bad thing," Kurt tried to explain himself, not wanting to give a bad impression to the friendly boy, "in fact, it's really good. I mean it can certainly make people like you…"

The boy just stared at him. _Great_ Kurt thought,_ so much for a new start. I've already made an enemy._

Kurt sighed, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you." Kurt hung his head as he went to get out a notebook, dejected.

After a moment of silence the Reed spoke in a quiet, curious tone. "You're serious aren't you? I mean I figured you were just mocking me but, you mean it."

Kurt quirked an eyebrow, confused by Reed's confusion. _I am an incompetent fool, where on earth would I get the right to mock him? _ "Of course I mean it. That's why I said it."

"Yeah, ok" Reed said, "So…start over?"

"I'd like that." Kurt said, happy to put the whole flub behind him.

"So, how'd you get to sit with the Warblers?" the boy asked, his voice reverent again.

"Blaine is showing me around, so I just sat with him. I didn't realize it was something special, I probably shouldn't have," Kurt explained doubt, seeping into his voice.

"Oh no, there all really nice guys, at least from what I can tell. I'm sure if Blaine invited you, you were more welcome, I just can't imagine approaching them. But I guess that was kind of covered for you." Reed quickly rattled off, trying to keep the conversation light this time.

"Yeah, they were," Kurt agreed but was cut off as the teacher started class.

xxx

Lunch or no lunch the room cleared out swiftly when the bell rang. Read hung around as Kurt collected his stuff though, picking back up his questioning on the Warblers.

"So do you think you'll always sit with them?" he asked as Kurt latched his bag and slung it over is shoulder.

"I don't know," Kurt responded as the two made their way towards the door, "I mean I guess as long as Blaine's showing me around. I haven't really thought about it. I'm going to Warblers practice after school today so I suppose maybe."

Reed nearly tripped over his feet. "You're _going_ to Warblers practice!" he half whispered, envy evident in his voice. "That's-"

Kurt never got to hear what Reed thought about that thought because it was at that moment that they turned out the door, and Reed walked right into Blaine, who was waiting outside, stumbling back.

"Woah, careful there!" Blaine said steadying him.

"I see you're making friends Kurt," Blaine said smiling and gesturing to Reed who was staring at him in a manner of what could only be described as star struck. _Blond-haired, blue-eyed friends_ a bitter voice mocked in the back of Blaine's head._ Seriously?_ he internally censured himself, _One, he's like 12. Two, since when are you a jealous person? Particularly about people you JUST MET! For all you know he could have a boyfriend. Heck you don't even know if he's gay! Crap, he's saying something!_

"Yeah…" Kurt said hesitantly looking over to see Reed's reaction. Kurt was used to knowing exactly where he stood with everybody; after all, it was a pretty simple system before, no real wiggle room. There was a lot more options now and Kurt didn't really know if Reed wanted to be his friend but he would kind of like him to so he took a chance and was relieved when the boy's face lit up. Then he got an idea.

"Hey Blaine, would it be ok it if Reed came to practice today too? He's really interested in the Warblers," Kurt asked hopefully. He wasn't sure if he was crossing a line, if it was really more of a private invitation but he really wanted to get on Reed's good side. He seemed really nice. Blaine was nice too, really, and Kurt liked him but after everything Reed had said about the Warblers Kurt questioned if he'd still hang around after Kurt had found his way around. And Miss Rowe had said to follow his instincts in making friends and the whole transition would be a lot easier. So that's what he was doing, right? Right.

Blaine eyes flashed back to Reed, excitement flaring at the idea of any contribution to the Warblers. He extended his hand "I'm sorry, I didn't probably introduce myself. Blaine Anderson, and you are…" he flashed a look at Kurt, eyebrows crinkling as he thought of the name he's just said, "Reed…?"

Reed eagerly returned the handshake, "Van Kamp, Reed Van Kamp," he said his voice jumping a couple octaves with excitement.

Blaine chuckled good naturedly. "So, you sing Reed?"

"Well I like to—I mean I try—I mean, yeah, but I was just talking to Kurt, I didn't mean, I couldn't—"

"Hey," Blaine cut him off, "Just come by today and check it out, that's all Kurt's doing. It's nothing formal, just some guys enjoying music. And always happy to share it. Promise."

Kurt stared at Blaine as he reassured Reed, almost as if he could read his mind. Kurt got the feeling that he played this role a lot: comforter, advisor, leader, the whole shebang. No wonder he had been asked to show him around.

Reed nodded meekly, but with an undeniably growing grin as they reached an intersection in the hallway.

"Okay, well I have to go this way" Reed said gesturing behind him when Blaine had started to lead Kurt the other direction, "but I will come. Thanks, really. See ya Kurt!" he said sincerely running off.

Blaine laughed, "I swear the way underclassmen act you would think we issued some kind of lock down on Warbler practices. I don't really understand where they get the idea from; our practices are in the senior lounge and we spend half the time dancing through the hallways. And that's not even counting impromptu performances!"

"So it is okay I invited him right?" Kurt asked.

"Yes, of course!" Blaine responded quickly. "When Wes first gained chair he had us on 24/7 recruitment, but we convinced him it was obnoxious after about a week. We're always looking for new voices though. Well here we are, Biology room. A word of caution, Mrs. Yevette is strict, but a powerful ally around here if you prove a good student."

Kurt peered uneasily into the classroom, having had his fair share of experiences with people it was important to keep on the good side of, none of them terrible pleasant even if you succeeded. "Ok…thanks, for the warning."

"Sure, what are friends for?" Blaine said. _It's not too presumptuous for me to call myself a friend right? I mean he said that Reed kid was his friend already right. Well, he kind of hesitantly responded when you asked actually. SHIT he's staring at the floor, wait to go you've made him uncomfortable. Oh wait no, it's that adorable shy way he stares at the floor when he doesn't know what to say, but not in a bad way….Blaine Anderson you just described the way someone looks at the floor as adorable. Later, slap yourself for your sappiness. Now, change the subject, before some of this absurd babble pours out._

"So, you've got a free period next, I could take you to a lounge, or I don't know if they took you up to your room or…"

"Yeah, they showed it to me. I can get there, it's pretty far away, I wouldn't want to make you late. Thank you though."

"Are you sure, the teachers are pretty leniently with be, especially when I'm escorting, it wouldn't be any trouble."

"No that's fine" Kurt said not wanting Blaine to go out of his way, he'd already helped so much. "I'll just meet you for Warblers?" Kurt looked at Blaine for confirmation, to which Blaine nodded.

"Yeah, I'll just come your room before, I have to go over to the dorms to drop stuff anyway, I pick up some random sheet music to throw," he snickered at the last comment. "What number is it?"

"312." Kurt said.

"Okay, bye Kurt."

"Bye Blaine." Kurt said, meeting his eyes for the first time the whole conversation for the first time that whole conversation, before going hurriedly into the classroom as the bell rang.

_Green_ Blaine thought as he made his own way to class._ Now they're green._ By the time he sat down in class, he was grinning widely, but hey he was a pretty happy guy, it didn't necessarily have anything to do with the changing colors of Kurt's eyes when he seldom meet his gaze.

No. Not at all.

**Reed Van Kamp is NOT, I repeat NOT my character. (I don't own Kurt, Blaine or any other Warblers either but I think if you're here you know they belong to Ryan Murphy…lucky duck). This adorable guy belongs to CP Coulter the author of Dalton. If you haven't read it I suggest you go check it out; it's a fun really well done story. Note if you are a dedicated Dalton reader this Reed will not be the same. First of all because I do not claim to have the same ability to characterize as CP Coulter. But also because then main reason I'm using him is when I was writing that scene I could stop picture my image of Reed and then no other name would fit. So yeah….**

**Sorry I know it's not very long (considering it took 4 months!) but I just got home a couple days ago and wanted to get something out before Christmas. On the bright side, Warblers practice is next chapter! And I'm giving myself a deadline on the 28****th****. Happy Holidays!**


	5. Chapter 4

**Ok so not quite the 28****th**** but better than 4 months right? Apologies for the tardiness. Thanks for all the reviews, favorites, and alerts! Without further ado, Onwards!**

After struggling with unlocking his door for a frustrating five minutes, Kurt collapsed on his bed, totally exhausted and head spinning with the information that had been pouring into his head for the past few hours, both school related and just experience based.

When Miss Rowe had first told him that he was going to be scheduled with a free last period when he came to Dalton his first response was doubt. Well actually his first response was confusion with the unfamiliar terminology, but after a fair-length conversation on a basic chunk of school system jargon, there was doubt, lots of it. He of course didn't voice it to Miss Rowe, not having a fiber in his being that he felt had the authority to question her on such matters, but he couldn't help but be concerned about taking less classes than other students when he was already so far behind. A more unfriendly voice he generally tried and usually succeeded in suppressing reasoned that Miss Rowe didn't think he could handle it. That her kind words and confidence were lies she was obligated to provide when she truly thought he was hopeless.

The thought would never have occurred to Kurt less than five months ago. That when people praise you they can have ulterior motives. That people lie and use you. He still didn't understand it. But now he _knew_, and that was enough to sprout all the doubts he'd had since then.

He pushed those thoughts away. He trusted Miss Rowe. He _had _to, or else he felt his head might explode at times. She'd been able to read the conflict in his face, despite his effort to hide it, when she told him about his schedule and was quickly able to deduce the problem, as always. She'd assured him that the adjustment was going to be difficult, but that the struggle had nothing to do with his character or aptitude. It was a big change and there was nothing to be done about it. He would need a break to process everything, and she wanted it to be at a time where there would be no distractions from other students. No other activities waiting.

She'd been right, Kurt realized as he lay on his bed. He couldn't completely shake the feeling that it had something to do with some shortcoming(s) on his part, but decided to focus on being grateful for her decision. After all, he couldn't imagine being in another class right now and then going almost immediately to Warblers practice, to watch people sing and dance…to perform, while he would—not.

Kurt let out a heavy breath sitting up on his bed. _My bed_ he thought; sure he'd had his own room ever since…before, but it still felt like so much: calling a whole room is own. It felt undeserved. But it was normal he reminded himself, most people have a room.

All the boys here were assigned a room. Of course, for pretty much everyone else it was two boys sharing a room while he was in a single. The fact doubled Kurt's sentiment that it was more than he deserved but again he would have to trust Miss Rowe's judgment, and truthfully he didn't know how he'd manage if he didn't. Sure he had shared sleeping quarters with far more than one person, but that was when everyone was in the same boat as him. That was before he had to constantly worry about being acting "normal."

For far beyond the schoolwork, hard as it was for him to understand, what really wore him down was the constant strain to keep up the act and blend in. So at this moment, despite his worries, he couldn't regret having agreed to take a single.

Biology had been at least half totally incomprehensible to him, due to the fact that so much of it was terminology generally introduced, Kurt had been informed, through the middle school years, and then more dove into at this point. He and his private teacher had been working on flashcards but apparently Kurt hadn't picked up that much yet.

Due to his conversation with Blaine and Reed, the teacher pointed him to his seat when he went in and class started immediately. At the end of class boys rushed out again (Kurt sensed a pattern developing) so Kurt gathered up his thing and headed over to the dorms.

About a month ago Miss Rowe had brought him to walk around the grounds so he could get a feel for the general layout and he'd been studying the map since then. They'd also walked around again this morning specifically the route from the academic building to the dorm. Then they'd gone up to his room and put his stuff, meaning a couple outfits, toiletries, some books, and a shoebox that rattled with a special few treasures, there.

Sure it had still taken Kurt a couple of wrong turns to get there, which he was sure he could have avoided if he's accepted Blaine's help, it felt silly, having him walk across campus when he had class to show Kurt to a room in the exact same place as Kurt had left it that morning.

It was something else too though. He liked talking to Blaine, truly. But doing so also required keeping up the act. Pretending he understood words and phrases he didn't; after about the forth he'd started keeping a list, too embarrassed to keep asking what they meant. Miss Rowe had given him a dictionary he'd decided he just look them up in it.

Rising he went over to one of the unpacked boxes and fished it out, taking it to his desk and taking out a piece of paper and a pencil hoping he might retain them if he wrote them down.

It was more than the words though. It was remembering the cover story and seemingly basic social graces. And Blaine seemed so genuinely interested and earnest to get to know him. Kurt was unaccustomed to such attention, well in that way. He didn't have answers to questions about what he liked to do or his favorite food or his favorite Disney movie or any of that. He didn't only think twice, but completely drew a blank to questions about hanging out or seeing a show or any of the other things Blaine had suggested as future activities.

While he didn't understand exactly how or why, it was clear to Kurt that Blaine wanted to make him feel welcome. It was also clear with each kind of non-committal noise Kurt offered in response that Blaine felt he had not succeeded and tried harder. And that was the chore of it, he was trying so hard and Kurt didn't know how to say that it was enough, he may seem a little on edge, but that had nothing to do with not feeling welcome. It was just that…well it was complicated.

And soon he was going to go to Warblers practice with Blaine and Reed. He wasn't sure if he was ecstatic or terrified.

Both, he decided, always both. Some things never changed apparently, even when _everything_ else did.

On one hand he was so excited to see people performing. Music was like breathing for him, it was the one thing that had always made sense. Something he'd been good at, something that comforted him.

But he'd been misled, and now he had to relearn how to use it. His crutch was is saving grace, Miss Rowe had said, but it'd been attached so much else he had to root out and free it from for it truly be something good for him, "quite a difficult conflict," she'd surmised.

Though she explained it in all different ways and he was beginning to grasp logically why and how he needed to relearn how to use music, emotionally he just couldn't find a problem with how it had always been incorporated into his life, it was all he knew.

And that was what terrified him: That he wouldn't relearn, that he couldn't; that music would never be able to be as a big of a part of his life again as it was before. And in the meantime, all though he'd understood Miss Rowe saying he didn't need to give up music altogether, just keep itself for a while, the thought brought a sadness to him of uncommon magnitude.

So while he was excited to experience music again, he didn't know how he'd stand up watching from the metaphorical crowd. He'd never been contained to that side. And if they asked him, god if they asked him! He knew it would be friendly and non-demanding, logically he knew that, but for all the therapy session about his decisions being his own he was nearly positive he would not be able to say no if someone asked his to sing. And that just prove it, that everything he'd been working on the past couple of months and all the faith Miss Rowe placed in him was for nothing. That he would never be anything more than a-

Kurt had himself right worked up at this point and of course that was when he heard two deliberate but gentle knocks at his door.

"Just a second," he yelped, running into his chair as he'd been surprised mid frantic pace. He grabbed his jacket, took a few deep breaths and put on a perfect show face of excitement, thanking heavens for the ability as he opened the door.

"Hey!" Blaine greeted, "You ready?"

"Yes" Kurt said shrugging his jacket on and buttoning it as he joined Blaine in the hall, closing the door behind him.

"So," Blaine began, "how was the rest of your day?"

Kurt took a moment, deciding "Busy," he settled on.

"Yeah, a new school can be hectic, I hope you're liking it though" Blaine responded.

"I am." Kurt said, glad that it was actually the truth. Yes it was stressful and confusing and overwhelming, but it was still fun and exciting and _new_.

"Good!" Blaine said letting out a breath. "I'm glad to hear it. And that's just school. Warblers practice is a blast. Just wait." 

"Yeah…" Kurt said trailing off awkwardly.

Blaine tried to let it go, but couldn't stand the way Kurt's shoulders were slightly tensed, or how his eyes were glued to the ground, not only not meeting his gaze but no longer glancing around taking in the scenery as they had been.

As they entered the building with the senior lounge Blaine stepped in front of Kurt, and put a hand on his soldier, stopping him. "Look Kurt if you don't feel up to this you don't have to come you know. I thought it'd be fun because you're interested in music but there's no pressure. Really."

Kurt froze at the hand on his shoulder concentrating on his breathing and trying to catch what Blaine was saying. He also continued to stare straight down even as he saw Blaine try to catch his eye. He just _couldn't_, particularly if he was going to say what he needed to.

"Thank you," he started, not quite a whisper, just over a breath, "f-f-for the no pressure." He pushed out. It was so hard, to make what should be a very simple request. But Blaine had a certain authority about him, not in a bad way but it was there. And Kurt didn't question authority, or make requests of them. He did what they wanted. But Miss Rowe was an authority too, and he'd made his decision.

"I do want to go. Really. You're right, it probably will be fun and I do miss music. I just, I—" he sighed, frustrated with himself. "I can't sing."

"Kurt," Blaine said in a voice so soft and comforting it almost tore Kurt's eyes to him, "First of all no one's going to make you sing, but I'm sure your voice is absolutely wonderful."

"No that's not what I meant. I mean I physically can't." Even looking at the ground Kurt could feel Blaine's confusion. "I mean…it is very _very_ important that I _don't_. And if you or anyone else asks me too, even if you say it's no pressure, I will. But I _can't_."

Kurt let his shoulders sag. He knew his story, he was him after all, and he was barely beginning to wrap his head around why he was not to sing for others. Add that to his lack of eloquence when it came to speaking and how on earth was he supposed to explain his predicament.

Blaine watched Kurt struggle to explain with sad eyes. He frankly got more confused the more this boy said. His desire to hug the boys was also increase exponentially. _Blaine_! he berated himself,_ focus!_

"Ok." He said, knowing it was particularly eloquent but wanting to show Kurt that this was a simple thing. That he didn't have to stare at the ground. That he could ask Blaine these things, or really anything…_BLAINE!_

"No asking, I'll let the guys know. Whatever you need Kurt, we just want you to feel at home." Blaine clarified as they began walking again.

Kurt blinked tears out of his eyes. That was it? Just like that. That was shocking yes but what really got to him was Kurt's last word. He'd had a home. And as far as he'd known he'd liked it. But when Blaine said it, it meant else or more or just different. Kurt wasn't sure but whatever it was, it was powerful.

At that moment they turned the corner and arrived in front of the door to the senior lounge, the activity of the boys inside audible. Right outside the door stood Reed practically vibrating with excitement.

"Hey Kurt!" He greeted, then "Blaine," more timidly with a nod.

"Hello." Kurt responded glad that his voice was almost all the way back to normal.

"Hey Reed," Blaine echoed, hand on the door. "Just give a second to remind them your coming. Be right back!"

He winked at Kurt as he went through the door, to assure him that he would talk to the guys without the awkwardness of him being in the room. Alas the gesture of comfort of the gesture was completely lost on Kurt.

"OH MY GOODNESS!" Reed whisper screamed as soon as the door closed. I can't believe I'm going to a Warblers practice! Thank you so much Kurt!"

Kurt smiled, genuinely and broadly; he'd done something good for someone else. "Of course," he replied quickly. "It was nothing," he added, because really it was a slip of thought more than anything else.

A moment later Blaine returned. "Okay, welcome to the madness," he said grinning wide as he threw the doors open, letting the papers he'd been holding fly into the air.

**So double apologies, one once again for it being late and two for it not having the Warbler practice. I just knew it would crap if I tried to get it out tonight. It will be soon though, I'm not gonna give a date because that obviously didn't work out but soon I promise. Hope you enjoyed it, sorry again. Happy New Year!**


	6. Chapter 5

"_**Be your teenage dream tonight!"**_

The members of the Warbler cut off with precision, the harmonies of their last notes hanging in the air for a second before they began to congratulate each other on the number.

Kurt still stood in the door way, frozen.

The moment Blaine had opened the doors the boys had broken into song, Blaine leading them.

As they had moved around the room, choreographed in perfect unison Reed had slowly, perhaps unconsciously, began to move to the music himself and ever so slightly edge into the room. It was dorky but endearing, not to mention definitely rhythmic the Warblers who caught sight of his movements noted, amused.

Blaine was busy trying to catch Kurt's eye, to engage him and try to get a sense of his opinion on the number. He found with delight that for once Kurt was looking up for more than a second instead of gluing his eyes to the floor except for fleeting glances, as was normally the case. However he noticed that despite the fact that Kurt was standing right there staring at the Warblers, his gaze seemed distant.

As the song went on Blaine utilized every charm and trick his stage personality possessed to no avail. As the number drew to a close he was openly holding Kurt's gaze, but he still had not moved and inch, his face maintaining an impassive expression.

Blaine couldn't make sense of it. People always found the Warblers' numbers to have a contagious energy. Reed certainly did, as he was now rocking out unabashedly and even singing along a bit, in a lovely tenor no less. Of course when the room fell silent his movements quickly stilled as he became cherry tomato red. Realizing that his actions had caught the attention of several Warblers, he looked like he was about ready to sprint for the door, but Wes managed to grab his arm first, immediately jumping into questions about interest and experience and voice part while Reed, again, looked star struck.

Blaine shook his head at the interaction and turned his attention back to Kurt, making his way over to the boy, slightly nervous at his strange complete lack of reaction.

Kurt stood frozen on the doorstep, his heart racing and his mind blank, or at least desperately trying to be. Kurt tried with every fiber being to not let the performance, the belted notes, the charming dance steps and the show smiles get to him. He fought how they conjured up images of a lifetime of performances that he would never have again. Because it was _wrong, _he tried to tell himself. But he couldn't feel it, only a burning desire to be part of it again; along with a kind of despair and incredible confusion that he couldn't, at least not yet. He owed Miss Rowe at least the respect of following her advice.

He knew this wasn't going to be easy, but he had no idea how powerful watching a performance again, would be. Especially since it was just a practice, no audience, no stage; low-key really. Just a couple of guys enjoying music, like Blaine had said. Not really comparable at all, and yet…

"So, um, what did you think?" Blaine asked hesitantly.

Kurt jumped slightly, startled. He had been so caught up in his thoughts he hadn't noticed Blaine coming over to him.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"The song, what'd you think? I know it still some work, but we are still practicing and…" Blaine babbled, trying to make up for what was apparently an unimpressive number as far as he could tell, much to his disappointment.

As Blaine spoke Kurt realized how he must have taken his silence, having had been in that position, and quickly stopped him.

"Oh! Yes, of course, sorry. It was good, really really good." Kurt assured Blaine, breaking out of his reverie with an encouraging his smile, surprising himself with the action.

It surprised him that he was able to come up with such an easy, conventional compliment, because a few months ago his response would have been quite different. _The boy on the far left, second row back turned a fraction a second later than the rest of you going into the first chorus. Someone on the baritone third line harmony was slightly sharp on the high notes. Your beat boxer didn't breathe deep enough going to the bridge and missed two beats at the end…._

The list went on, even only partially taking it in Kurt's mind had cataloged each misstep; and yet as a result of some mixture of training for the last couple of months and Blaine's hopeful expression as he asked "You think so?" he instead found himself saying, "Yes, it was quite…entertaining!" with a smile and a nod for emphasis.

It wasn't untrue, not at all. When Kurt thought about the performance it was genuinely enjoyable and high quality. His previous thoughts had much less to do with the Warblers short-comings and more with the fact that it was only in the last few months that he'd been introduced to the idea that things could be judged on how good they were, rather than assessed for fault; that seeking out error and correcting it was by no means the only possible form of evaluation.

"Thanks! We try." Blaine said, grinning wide. He was relieved that Kurt had indeed liked the performance. However he noticed that his eyes had quickly regained that kind of far off look and, concerned, was about to ask him if anything was wrong, when Wes gave the gavel three sharp raps of the council table.

Kurt's head snapped towards the noise, while his eyes retrained themselves on the floor. It was an odd combination of actions to observe but Blaine chose to ignore it, for now.

"C'mon, let's sit down," he said placing a hand on Kurt's back and guiding him to one of the couches where Reed was already sitting, all but bouncing in his seat. The tense he felt under his fingertips at the gesture was slight, controlled, but not undetectable. Still Blaine said nothing, sitting down, cataloging it all away for a later time.

"I now call this meeting of the Warblers to order," Wes began, the room having had finally fallen quiet as everyone found a seat.

"First, I'd like to welcome Kurt and Reed. We're glad to have you and hope you enjoy what you hear today," Wes continued grinning their way.

"Next, I'd like to say congratulations; "Teenage Dream" is becoming quite the hit of the number. Thad, David, and I have decided to put it in the running to use at the Sectionals competition so please mull it over and bring your opinions on the matter to the next meeting."

"Moving on our first order of business is..."

"Blaine?" Kurt whispered.

"Yeah?" Blaine responded looking at Kurt to see that his eyes were flickering between Wes, and of course predominantly the floor, his forehead creased in apparent confusion.

"Is Wes not a student?"

"Oh." Blaine said understanding, "Yeah, Dalton likes to have students take upon responsibility and leadership positions so we don't have a director. Instead we elect a council of upperclassmen to run the club. Which is a lot of fun for us, as long as Wes doesn't get to gavel happy," he sniggered.

At this Kurt's brow only furrowed further in confusion. "So it's just you guys. You get to make all the decisions? You don't have a ma—" Kurt cut himself off realizing what he was about to say. No, of course they didn't have one of those. But surely they had some kind of authority figure calling the shots? He searched his brain for an appropriate term but came up short. What word had Blaine used? "Um, I mean a director? What would he be doing if you had one?" he asked, trying to figure out if that was what he meant.

"Oh, basically managing everything. You know, teach us about music, make song selections, divide us parts, give solos, teach choreography, keep us from getting into too much trouble, would certainly have his work cut out for him there. I suppose things can get a little more hectic this way, but I don't know, I'm glad for it. Kind of makes it feel like the music is more our own, you know?"

Kurt let out a half shocked sigh, half breathless laugh, saying "Yes, I suppose." From Blaine's description he decided "director" had been the word he'd been looking for, even though it still seemed less intense than he could imagine, and they didn't even have one! Sure this council thing seemed to hold some power but still, they were part of the group, the music was really their own thing. And that amazed Kurt.

Blaine's words reminded Kurt of what Miss Rowe had said about him needing to learn enjoy music for himself. He knew he needed to work on that alone for a while, but maybe in time the Warblers could help him. For as much as the way Miss Rowe explained it made sense, he really wasn't sure how to go about the whole process. He loved performing, but that sentiment had always been tied to the fact that he _had _to, and even with everyone telling him he _didn't_ have to anymore, understanding what that meant and adjusting was going to require some work, and some help.

It required an existence that'd he been absent from. That he'd have to learn from scratch essentially.

All the sudden Kurt's inner dialogue was interpreted as people got up and began moving furniture around. He quickly realized that they were going to work on some choreography and found a seat on the windowsill out of the way while they worked.

"Oh my word, this is incredible. How are you so calm Kurt? They're amazing! Wes was saying…" Reed gushed as he started settling in beside Kurt but just then Wes gestured to him as he walked close past the pair on his way into formation.

"How about we see if you can pick up moves as impressively as you create them?" he asked warmly."

"Okay!" Reed said, standing up and taking a step forward. He frowned slightly and turned back when he realized Kurt was not doing the same, "C'mon Kurt."

Kurt tensed but before he could do or say anything Wes interceded. "I think he's fine for now. It'll be good to have someone tell us how we look," he said pushing Reed towards a position at the opposite end of the stretch of boys. Reed looked back questioningly at Kurt, but let himself be guided away.

Wes liked to think he was fairly perceptive and intuitive person. It wasn't arrogance; it was confidence, and more so truth. He didn't need to know someone long or even much about them to get a general feel for how to work with them, as was often his task as president/council member etc. at more than a few of the school's clubs. The same traits and his talent at simply reading what people needed made him one of the school's top choices for a mentor/guide/friend to new students, particularly those involving transfers with unpleasant back stories. In fact he was second to only to Blaine, the boy he'd originally mentored himself. He smiled fondly thinking of how far he'd come.

Wes wasn't Kurt's mentor and he didn't know his story, but that didn't mean he couldn't be a friend to the boy; that he couldn't help him with what was apparently quite the adjustment. He didn't know why he refused to meet your eyes when you spoke with him, but he could tell it wasn't with the fear that bullied kids generally did, at least not solely. Those kids would increase eye contact the more you spoke with them, and when you got them talking they abandoned avoidance all together. And without fail if you surprised them in any way or sparked their interest their eyes would shoot up to yours.

At lunch he had been able to see Kurt smiling as the group conversed, asking questions to Blaine every now and again, but no matter how engaged his eyes never snapped up. Side-glances yes, but never quick eye contact. He'd just seen him meet Blaine's gaze once in the hallway as they made their way to classes after lunch. It had been a concentrated effort, no mistake, and yet a…struggle? These were the things Wes noticed.

And what these things suggested to Wes was not that Kurt came from a bad social situation, as was the norm, but from something closer to a non-social existence, or at least one entirely accustomed to typical culture. What exactly that entailed Wes couldn't really imagine at this point but it did make him readjust his strategies.

For instance, anyone who mentioned any kind of interest, and the demonstrated talent, he tried to get involved in the Warblers. The guys made great friends and music was a great way to express oneself and let out emotions. Yet when Blaine had said that they needed to not try to get him to participate he hadn't questioned it. One because Blaine was as enthusiastic about music and the Warblers as he was; Wes trusted his judgment so if he was asking this there must be a good reason. But also because Kurt was different, as noted, was so wrapped up in his own world, it would take time to unravel him, and time for Wes to figure out how.

So it was with his wonderful innate ability to smoothly manipulate that he deterred Reed's attempt to involve Kurt without allowing a chance for Kurt to have to search for an excuse.

Taking his place, which he'd situated Reed next to so he could teach him the moves, Wes called out the first four beats and the boys began.

Kurt's skin itched with the desire to join in. He'd been so close when Reed had turned back with that "C'mon Kurt." An order. His muscles had tensed reacting immediately but before he could move Wes had undone it. It wasn't an order, Kurt knew, (well really the first wasn't either but it was phrased like one and hey, baby steps); Wes wasn't saying he couldn't join, but he was not offering either, and that was enough for Kurt to be able to resist the call to perform.

That didn't mean it was easy. The steps were simple; he had them down with the first run through. It felt so odd, to just sit and watch. To not run a routine to perfection.

The boys smiled while they worked…a lot. Not a mere single one of accomplishment at the end. But continuously and frequently, with small chuckles and bellowing laughter not even, but most particularly, when they stumbled over each other or their own feet every now and again.

Blaine's smile was constant and his enthusiasm tangible. It didn't matter whether it was practice or a full crowd at a show-choir competition. Every aspect of and opportunity to perform music filled him with life. This was his passion.

_They are enjoying themselves, _Kurt thought. _Enjoying __practicing a performance_. It shouldn't be a strange thing to observe. Kurt after all enjoyed practicing performing, it was as essential to his well-being as breathing. But it didn't look anything like this. There was substantial difference between Kurt's years of experience and what he was now watching. Neither bad, in his mind, but shockingly incongruent.

Soon enough they finished practicing and Wes called David and Thad, the other council members over for a short conversation before Wes turned to the rest of the group and whistled to gain their attention as they chatted.

"The council would like to extend to Reed and invitation to audition for the Warblers next week. All in favor?"

All the hands in the room rose, a few boys standing close enough clapping Reed on the back who was again cherry red but grinning so wide it looked as though his face may rip apart any second.

"Any opposed?" All the hands went down. "Good, then Reed Van Kamp, I formally invite you to audition for the Warblers next Tuesday at. Congratulations, pick something good. Meeting dismissed," Wes said and the boys began to filter out of the room.

Before exciting Wes came over to Kurt. "I hope you had fun Kurt, you are of course welcome back anytime," he said.

"Thank you." Kurt said earnestly but made no other comment; he didn't know if he'd be coming back, if he could.

Luckily he was saved from having to continue as Blaine broke through the surge of boys moving the other way, clapping him on the shoulder or stopping him for a quick question as they passed.

Seeing Blaine walk up Wes grinned. "Great practice today, man."

"Thanks! I really like teenage dream, it definitively has my vote."

Wes shook his head, "Your addiction to Katy Perry is boundless."

The two laughed lightly. Then noticed that Kurt had moved, not towards the door though, he was staring out the window.

Wes and Blaine shared a look and Wes nodded, "See you later," he said swiftly exciting.

Blaine went over to Kurt, rocking on his heels as Kurt continued to stand in front of the window, though Blaine could now see that his eyes were actually closed. "Penny for your thoughts?" he ventured.

Kurt's eyebrows crinkled as his eyes blinked open, gaze dropping immediately.

"I'm sorry?"

"What are you thinking about?" Blaine clarified, reminded himself not to use expressions.

"Oh, I was just thinki—I mean wonder—I just—" Kurt was instantly flustered, trying to find the words to respond honestly and appropriately.

"You know what? My bad, not my business. Sorry." Blaine said quickly, once again caught up with how hard Kurt was trying to just function. He would guess that a lot was on Kurt's mind all the time. One day of showing him around in no way entitled him free access to that information, and he feared that if asked Kurt would offer it up, whether he really wanted to or not. The thought hurt Blaine. He wanted Kurt to trust him, not just with telling him stuff, but knowing he could do it on his terms, no pressure, no questions asked. That was something Blaine was completely prepared to work to earn though.

Kurt relaxed when Blaine withdrew the question as he had been at a complete loss, having a million thoughts and no words to say them. Not even the general social sense to know what he should say, where to start, what was too deep for a conversation starter.

"If there's anything you _want_" Blaine stressed the word "to talk about though, we can. Like anything. I'm here if you need it," Blaine said, hoping got his point across.

Kurt sighed. Why couldn't he just tell him everything? It was too all too confusing, too new to handle on his own. Miss Rowe had encouraged him to try and make friends and experience "life." How could he even begin to do that though until he put the past behind him and "figured out how he was," as she had put it? How he was supposed to make that transition while living in this world if he had to pretend he was like everybody else, if he had to hide?

Miss Rowe had answered all these of course: he needed to find himself as a person of the real world, not the shell he lived in before, for which he needed to really live in it; and he needed to form who this new person was completely within his own mind, separate his new identity and interactions from the his prior manner, or at least as much of it as corresponded to the role he had played. Most of all though he needed to learn to evaluate and decide things, like who was truly worthy of his trust, for himself. Need to allow time for that opportunity because when it came, it would all make sense and he'd be in the clear.

She'd been very patient in explaining it all, except of course the last, because, well by definition she kind of couldn't, he had to learn it himself. In the moment though it was all too overwhelming to process and he…just…HOW?

Kurt took a deep breath to calm his rapid thoughts. Baby steps, Miss Rowe's voice echoed in his mind, baby steps, that's how. Goal number one: isolate the positives of his relationship with music and performing. If he got that he could manage the rest.

Step one: gather information. Logical progressions, it'd been and remained a large part of his therapy. Procedures by which he could acclimate himself to the world. So how do you gather information, you ask questions.

Blaine wanted to talk to him, to help him, with no hidden aim as far as Kurt could tell. He couldn't tell why but he decided to believe that he was being sincere. Perhaps it was foolish, perhaps Kurt's sheltered life had made him too quick to trust, or more so not entrusted him with the natural instinct to withhold information because he'd never had the option.

Nonetheless one innocent little question couldn't hurt. He was supposed to ask questions.

He took a deep breath, "Blaine?' he barely whispered, hoping his logic was right.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you a question, it's probably kind of weird?"

"You can ask me anything Kurt." Blaine's mind cringed slightly at the clicheness of the phrase but he ignored it, because cliché or not it was true.

"You love music right, and performing?"

"Very much so yeah, I don't know what I'd do without it."

Kurt laughed a slight bitter laugh internally, _You have no idea._

"Well…why? I mean could you describe what it means to you, how you feel about it?" They were questions Miss Rowe had asked him to which he'd drawn a blank. Not for lack of words but for simply not understanding what she wanted. He loved music and performing, what else was there? 

"Oh," said Blaine taken aback. It had not been what he was expecting but it certainly wasn't unwelcome, if he could have a conversation about music with Kurt he would call the day a pretty big success. He smiled at the thought.

"It's hard to put into words I suppose; I mean I've always been better with music than words. That's part of it I guess, it's so easy to express myself, and express emotion, whether it's good or bad. Pent up aggression, sorrow, so happy you'll just burst if you don't let it out? Music can channel it all, filter it out or through you and just…make you happy. It makes me happy. There's nothing else like it. And it's something no one can take from me you know?"

He looked at Kurt for confirmation but the boy just continued to stare out the window, eyebrows knit in confusion. No apparently he didn't know.

"How can I explain it?" Blaine huffed gesturing in circles with his hands as if that would make the words come. "It's like, well sometimes, when you're really into the music if you just stop take a second to close your eyes…" he did so indicating for Kurt to follow him.

"And you just see it, everything you feel, the good I mean, the way you feel about music. And it's not like you see other things obviously. It's colors and joy and peace and just…Everything else falls away for a second as it fills you up. It's part of you, that's why I think it's so hard to explain, because I imagine that moment is different for everyone. It's personal. When you perform you get to share the joy of that intense relation, and it's exhilarating, yeah. But I think that is really just because it's an extension of that feeling fed back to you. But that personal peace it provides is the crux, you give into the music in all its wonder, letting it push everything else away and…" he sighed. "There's nothing like it."

He trailed off looking at Kurt but he had not seemed to move, showing no indication that any of what Blaine said was sinking in. _Well duh it was super cliché and totally overdone. The kid asked why you loved music not an epic poem pouring your heart out about your obsession simultaneously display your weakness for sappy words when you're not allowed the communicative luxury of song. Yeah, smooth Blaine, he'll totally like you now. Rambling, cliché nerd who can't speak like a normal human being, there's a winner, _he sarcastically berated himself, so much for hitting off a conversation.

"I'm sorry, I'm rambling, I don't know how to put it. I mean, how do you feel about music?" he said trying to shift the focus, plus he really wanted to get to know Kurt.

Kurt forced himself to look in Blaine in the eyes then. For one to process the earnestness there as Blaine asked about his feelings about music. Perhaps if he could come to accept the fact that people wanted to know things about them it would be easier to answer their questions.

More so though he was looking for the passion that had been in Blaine's voice as he spoke, hoping he could channel it even a smidge of it. Kurt couldn't imagine thinking like that, but perhaps if he could absorb just a little bit of it as he seemed to gush out of Blaine he'd be able to come up with his own answers.

And the passion was there, burning in his eyes. Yet it seemed to Kurt like there was an impenetrable glass wall between him and it. He could never speak about his experience in the way Blaine just had.

Blaine's breath hitched as Kurt met his gaze with a fierce intensity. Searching. After several second they feel just a tad.

"I don't know." The words were uttered with a heaviness that unnerved Blaine." "Thank you, for this. It was very kind of you to invite me, but I have to go now. Please excuse me," Kurt said stiffly.

And with that he flew out the room.

Blaine stumbled as Kurt flew past him, like a brick wall, a crumbling brick wall. Then he was gone, a deafening silence in his wake.

_What did I say?_

**Sorry for the delay with this one, I'm back at college plus had some writer's block figuring out where to go with it :/. It's the longest so far by a lot though so hopefully that makes up for something. Got inside Kurt's head quite a bit here, kind of flying blind as I obviously don't have a background like its Kurt's but I'm just trying to get across his confliction and general lostness. Did it work? Next chapter is going to be 100% in Kurt's head with semi flashbacks and an epiphany so let me know how I'm doing with that perspective please. In other exciting news: Saw Darren Criss on Broadway and got his autograph after :D ! There is no end to that man's talent and charm, it was an incredible experience. 'Til next time!**


	7. Chapter 6

**So I've come to the conclusion that this, (meaning me and my absurd procrastination) is ridiculous. If Chris Colfer can write books and screenplays while carrying on with his crazy busy life then I should damn well be able to keep along with one measly fanfic. So here it goes, attempt at regular writing, round two. Onwards.**

Kurt did not run back to his dorm room. Even if it took all his will power with every step. In fact that alone was not even enough. But when you've had something practically beat into your brain, well that does work.

And it was practically beat into his head that you do NOT run. Running looks bad; its looks guilty, it insinuates….well its bad anyway, and the consequences worse.

So with a very determined step he made is way swiftly, but controlled to his room, sending a thanks you to the powers that be that he had no problem finding the way this time.

As soon as the door was securely locked behind him he leaned back against it and slid down, practically collapsing on the floor.

His breath came fast and he could feel his heart hammering in his chest. Squeezing his eyes shut he tried to take a deep breath and calm the overwhelming panic of being lost and confused, so different from the panic he had long since mastered containing.

His mind drifted as he sat there. To Blaine, to his words, to the Warblers, to Miss Rowe, to…

_He stood behind the stage, ch_est _heaving as he caught his breath, blood racing with the thrill of completing a new routine. Performed perfectly, finally. He sighed, listening for his next cue over the sound of the cheering crowd. Always waiting for the next step._

"_Well, do you want to see more?"_

_A voice, from above, followed by thunderous applause, cheering…jeers._

"_Well then, let me go see if I can find him!"_

_The voice again, no cue though. His skin prickled with anticipation._

_The sharp tap of footsteps on the stairs. A flash of black and red. Against all natural instinct his eyes did not leave the ground._

_A gloved hand sliding along his back, a finger a long his cheek, a caress._

"_Listen. Do you hear them cheer?"_

_A nod._

"_That's right, all for you, just for you. They want to see you perform."  
><em>

_His muscles ached, sweat dripped in his eyes, his chest burned. He did not consider not going on for an instant._

_Now a black top hat by his face, almost as familiar as the breath on his ear, or the weight of the gloved hand on his shoulder._

"_Come now sweet boy, again. For them….for me. It's the only way…"_

_He was up the stairs and on the stage in the same instant._

A sharp pain drew Kurt back. He been grasping the strap of his back around the buckle to tight it was cutting his hand. He released it quickly and tossed the bag away, pushing himself to his feet.

The room was mostly empty, his few belonging still in the trunk at the end of his bed, while the only furniture in the room was the bed tucked into the corner and the desk against the wall, leaving a generous open area. He stepped into the middle of it and took a deep breath…and sang.

He began to move almost immediately after almost on muscle memory, he'd lived and breathed these performances so long. Twists, turns, jumps, slides, flips. His muscles tugged, out of their regular routine after a few short months. But the strain was not enough to stop him, not enough time had elapsed to eclipse a lifetime of drills and rehearsals.

Something flared in his chest, old and familiar. Happiness right? What else could it be. This was what he loved, what he _needed_. So what else did Miss Rowe want from him? For him? Or for him from this is what she was really getting at, he supposed.

Blaine's words tugged at the back of his mind.

"_Music…it's so easy to express myself….it makes me happy."_

What was he expressing now? What was he ever expressing when he performed? After so intently learning to suppress his emotions, he found it near impossible to tell.

But it made it him happy right? That's what counted. That warm pressure on his chest? That must be happiness right, what else could it be after all?

Deep down Kurt knew that was avoiding the true, daunting question. Why couldn't he identify for sure the feeling of happiness?

Not exactly ready to conquer that he continued to think over Blaine's words as he sang, his body following gracefully without a second thought.

"…_sometimes, when you're really into the music if you just stop take a second to close your eyes…and you just see it, everything you feel…the way you feel about music… It's colors and joy and peace and just…It's part of you…It's personal._

Kurt sang louder, left his steps fall faster, and gently closed his eyes, searching.

_Flashes of red and black. The glove, the hat, the bottom half of a face cast in shadow. A voice, his voice, sharp like the crack of a whip, "AGAIN!"_

_Then soft, but heavy, crawling in one ear and out the other, curling around his neck, suffocating, "Come now, sweet boy. For them…for me. It's the only way, the only reason…"_

The feeling flared in his chest. He missed a step and stumbled, a stupid mistake a familiar voice berated him inside.

Sighing he pulled his hands off his face, so much for that. One thing was for sure, his connection to music was intense, and as vital as the air he breathed. But it was not like Blaine said. It did not bring his emotions to the surface so clearly he could see them in colors, not in the way he spoke about them anyway. Not with peace for sure, although perhaps some security in a sense of familiarity. But as far as it being a part of _him_, of being personal?

Sighing again he walked over to look himself in the mirror. The experience was still slightly unnerving. But perhaps it wasn't because he wasn't used to looking at his appearance healthy or not. Perhaps it was because as new as the tie and the blazer were to his being, they were no less foreign to him then the boy staring back, and not just in physical being, in his very existence.

Because clad in a boys' boarding school uniform, scared and confused that's what he looked like a boy. A boy was Kurt was entirely disconnected from.

And that was the crutch of it. Kurt didn't perform for himself, like Miss Rowe urged. Music wasn't an expression on his inner love or connection with his inner self as Blaine suggested. After all, how could it be?

Blaine said it was a part of _who_ he was.

But who he was Kurt Hummel? He was a dancer, a singer, a performer…Those are "whats" more than "whos," and when it came down to it that was the problem.

Kurt didn't think of himself as a who, he thought, he _knew_ himself, as a what.

That's all he'd ever learned. And until now, it'd never been an issue.

And that confused all the people who knew his story; it was where they hit a wall they couldn't get him around. How could he have never worried about _who _he was? It was human nature.

Well not for him. He knew. He knew that…no.

Kurt threw himself onto his bed without undressing, utterly exhausted. Still it took hours of tossing and turning before he finally fell into a fit full dream filled sleep, haunted with flashes red and black…and the thunderous sound of applause and cheers.

"_Listen…for me...it's the only way, the only reason anyone will ever l-" _

He could still feel the heavy breath on his ear when a knock on his door awoke him.

\


	8. Chapter 7

**Super short, sorry! Onwards!**

The knock startled him awake so suddenly he was not at first aware what had even cause him to rise, but as he was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes it came again, soft and polite but persistent.

Outside the door Blaine was wringing his hands nervously. After he had left the senior commons last night Kurt had proceeded to skip dinner. Blaine had gone up to check on him after but couldn't get any response. After a few minutes he decided perhaps Kurt just needed some time alone, but surely he shouldn't be missing classes?

Kurt rolled out of bed and opened the door hurriedly, going from half asleep to fully alert immediately when he saw Blaine standing there dressed in his uniform with his bag over his shoulder.

"Sorry!" Kurt exclaimed moving back into his room and pulling another uniform out of the closet. "I must have passed out last night and forgot to set an alarm, I'll be ready in just a second, I swear, I—"

"Kurt, it's fine," Blaine said taking one step into the room to try and catch Kurt's eye. The second he did they flashed away, but then Kurt's eyes scrunched in what appeared to be frustration and with a long exhale he slowly brought them back up.

They were clear bags under them that made Blaine sure that whether the "passed out" line was true or not it had not been a dead sleep.

"We have time, I actually came up a little early to check on you. You weren't at dinner last night." Blaine chose his words carefully, statements not questions, giving Kurt the choice to talk or avoid.

As if on cue Kurt's stomach grumbled. He put a hand over it quickly, flushing, "Oh yeah, I guess I forgot. Sorry," Kurt's thoughts drifted to just what he had been so preoccupied with the night before and his eyes fell back to the floor, almost forgetting Blaine was there completely. Almost.

Blaine tried to imagine simply forgetting a meal. He couldn't. It's not really in the nature of your average teenage boy. As he watched Kurt's face cloud over though he decided now wasn't the moment to make a joke of it.

"Not a problem. Just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Kurt's first instinct was to respond with a traditional "I'm okay." To reassure, without offering any new information. To reiterate in the posititive, without ever really considering the question being asked.

He could not put his finger on what exactly it was, but still knew it was something about Blaine, that made him stop himself and look Blaine in the eyes again. It was still a struggle, but he was beginning to think it was worth it, because every time he did so with Blaine he was met with those huge deep golden eyes brimming with emotion, just out of reach.

Like now, they were filled with concern and curiosity, but distinctly lacking pressure or expectation. Maybe that was what made Kurt really able to stop and come up with a real, true response. That Blaine would have let him get away with "I'm okay."

So the question was, was he? Well perhaps it was a little early to think that over, so he went with the next best thing.

"It was a long day. I had a lot on my mind. I…I just am not..quite…used to," Kurt floundered for a minute before he realized he was overthinking it, "….everything, I suppose."

Blaine nodded. It was vague , but it was more than he'd expected. He was trying, Blaine would just have to be patient. And for Kurt, Blaine was pretty sure that wouldn't be a problem.

So with his wide smile he responded "Alright, I'll be right outside while you change then."

As he slipped out the door, closing it behind him, Kurt's eyes widened. He'd already had his shirt all the way unbuttoned. He wasn't supposed—he didn't even think about-. Kurt stopped himself. He'd been turned into his closet, Blaine hadn't said anything, he didn't see them. He couldn't have.

Taking a deep breath Kurt proceeded to put on the rest of his uniform. He wasn't sure last night's…revelation, really counted as progress, but it definitely felt like a step forward. Like he'd broken through a wall.

And now with it out of the way he was standing on a great expanse on unknown territory. He still didn't know where he was going, had no idea in fact. Definitely didn't know his destination, or how to get there. Could be going the wrong way from his first step, was definitely bound to trip and fall and get turned around. But at least now he could _move._

Because in the end how different was it, being totally lost in life and being totally lost in a metaphorical wilderness? There really just one option, start _going_.

Blaine was outside waiting for him. This school was full of new and exciting prospects. The metaphorical woods adventures. The world for that matter it seemed, both metaphorical and physical.

Miss Rowe had once suggested to him that the problem with a lot of people, including psychologists like herself, is trying to solve life's problems head on instead of just living through them to find the answer that will only come when its ready anyway. Kurt had been hesitant to accept the philosophy at first. When he'd struggled to master a move he explained, he finally gotten it by working at it tirelessly, not waiting around for it to "come to him."

Miss Rowe had smiled at that, "Well, wouldn't you know, you have a stubborn side, don't you Mister Hummel?"

Kurt had blushed, "Sorr—"

"Don't apologize, I'm glad to see a little spark in you."

Finishing shrugging on his blazer, Kurt turned the door handle, nodding to Blaine as he stepped out.

No, he didn't know who Kurt Hummel was. But maybe, just maybe, if he tried "just living" for a while, here at Dalton, with all its _life_, (two boys, Nick and Jeff if he remembered quickly, raced past his door way as he opened it as though reaffirming his point), he could begin to, not find out, but create for the first time.

That's how you start things, one step at a time.

With that thought he almost smiled, not for or to anyone, just to himself, as he fell into step behind Blaine on the way to breakfast.

It wasn't going to be as easy as that, he knew, but how hard could it be to try?

'_Pretty damn hard.'_ A sarcastic, bitter voice inside him replied, surprising him. He wasn't' really sure when he even gained the capacity to be bitter.

Pushing it back he glanced up just in time to see Blaine smiling out, and he wasn't sure why, but it helped somehow. A new voice, still his own but different than before picked up his inner monologue: _'Breathe. In. Out. Step. Right. Left. Repeat. Take it as it comes.'_

**So I guess this is kind of my way of saying were moving away from the heavy stuff for a while. That's not to say I am shoving all of Kurt's history and issues aside and not following though with that part off the plot, I've actually only begun to crack the surface on that. I just want to have him develop a bit of a relationship with Blaine and the Warblers before any of that gets out. So the next couple of the chapters are gonna be about his new experiences. Hopefully those chapters will be longer, but my main priority is going to be there not being excessively long breaks between chapters, so well see you that goes. If you read this whole thing I applaud your attention span and thanks! Hope you liked it! :)**


	9. Chapter 8

**This one's for mkjrhoes for being the best reader a girl could ask for :)**

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><p>"Kurt?"<p>

Kurt stood, resignedly watching Blaine make his way down the hallway away from him, towards his class.

Blaine had cello lessons first period to Kurt's art, classes which were, _so conveniently,_ (Kurt marveled at the snark growing every day in his inner monologue) at the opposite sides of campus. However one of the other Warblers, Jeff, had art as well and had offered to take Kurt. Blaine had assured him that it was no trouble to take Kurt over, but Kurt had in turn insisted that he would be fine. He knew he should be too, really, that it was ridiculous to have Blaine out of his way just for him, to rely on him like that.

Yet for some reason, inexplicable to Kurt any small amount of confidence he had summed up that morning fled the moment Blaine had turned around to walk down the hallway.

Breakfast had run perfectly smoothly, Kurt thought he might even be able to say he enjoyed it. But suddenly without Blaine's inexplicably magically reassuring presence everything was overwhelming again. '_Breathe, one step at a time,'_ he reiterated to himself, hoping the mantra would eventually seep into him like a blanket of calm.

"_Kurt?"_

Oh yeah Jeff!

"Sorry, sorry, what was that?" Kurt asked, flushing and dropping his already down cast gaze so far he was practically tucking his chin into chest, as he turned towards Jeff.

"Art room's this way bud," Jeff laughed gesturing down the other hallway and starting that way. It was a light, effortless laugh, amazingly untroubled. Not mocking or bitter Kurt was relieved and gladdened to note. Almost even kind somehow. Kurt decided he liked it.

He could do this.

"SOOooooooooo," Jeff said, dragging it out and letting his voice slide from low to high in a comedic way as he did a kind of sideways step and bumped Kurt's shoulder with his own, "You really into art, or just filling in an elective slot?"

'Elective,' Kurt made a mental note, another one to look up in the dictionary that night.

"Not really sure," he replied, sensing no reason he couldn't stick to honesty here. "I've never really been exposed to it. I thought it would be best to try something new. My councilor thought it'd be a good for me."

Kurt thought he noticed Jeff give him a side glance out of the side of his eye, but he couldn't be sure as it was gone without a trace in an instant.

"Cool, cool," Jeff said nodding then turning their path into a doorway on their right. "This is it, we're doing pottery right now, which is good, you know if you like getting your hands dirty," Jeff added sniggering and waggling his eyebrows, very much to Kurt's bewilderment.

"Watch it Mr. Sterling." A cool voice came from behind them, causing Kurt to jump and turn around quickly.

Behind them, seemingly out of now where, was a tall woman with large round glasses that magnified her hazel eyes and made her look like an owl. Her silver hair was pulled back into a messy bun, strands falling out everywhere and revealing its true length where it hung around her waist.

She had a stern gaze fixed at Jeff, but the left corner or her mouth was turned up in a small smirk.

"Of course, forgive me for forgetting myself Lady Owl," Jeff said bowing.

Kurt looked at Jeff quizzically, then attempted to follow his lead.

The women stopped him with by holding a hand out with a rueful laugh, "Oh please boy, I hope you aren't taking to following this one's example," she said, gesturing to Jeff, "One can only imagine what kind of trouble that would get you in."

"Oh one hardly has to imagine," Jeff returned with mirth, "There's a neat little file with an orderly list right in the principal's office."

"Alright, smart ass, that's enough, get to work," she said prodding him with a long paint brush that had been hiding in the folds of her loose shirt around her belt. She then turned her intense gaze on Kurt while he tried valiantly to not let his own be drawn to engage with it.

But she just continued to stare at him without saying anything. It seemed rather rude to hide behind some piece of furniture to avoid the way they seemed to drill into him; so instead he steeled himself and raised his eyes slowly.

The perfect spheres of her eyes crinkled ever so slightly when he finally met them. He let a breath in relief. She turned the brush over and held it out to him.

"Don't have any extra pottery wheels up right now I'm afraid. Thought I might have you paint for now, how does that sound?"

Kurt took the paintbrush from her hand unsurely and twirled it between his fingers, "I don't know how," he confessed.

"Well," she said grinning as she placed a hand on his shoulder to guide Kurt over to one corner of the room. She moved in a slow, flowing way such that Kurt managed to prepare himself, and not flinch at the contact.

"This is the easel; you just stick a brush in some of the paint here," she tapped a tray beside a wooden stand, "and slap it on the canvas."

Kurt's gaze traveled between the white expanse of the canvas and the multitude of colored paints. He'd often observed people paint elaborate designs on his skin before shows, how different could it be?

"Ok, what should I paint?"

The Owl, as Jeff had referred to him gave him a strange look.

"I can't tell you that, it has to be your own. Just go for it. Call me if you need anything. I don't like titles thought so Liz, not Miss Bens, okay? Or Lady Owl if you really want" she smiled ruefully. The thought of addressing a teacher, someone with authority, made Kurt's stomach twist but he nodded. Names like Owl were familiar to him anyway.

She went to walk away but turned back a second later, "A bit of advice though, on the painting: don't think about it, not specifically. Just let your mind wander, and your hands will follow," and with that she was gone, interweaving between the other students with the ethereal quality of a slight breeze.

Sighing Kurt turned back to the task at hand. _Don't think about it, just think, yeah that's not confusing,_ he remarked in his mind but put the brush in a paint jar at random at drew a stroke across the canvas.

Red. That was his first mistake, red was a dangerous color.

He tried to think about the words he looked up last night, repeating their definitions over in his head to cement them. But they were weak competition for his attention, so he switched to Blaine.

At breakfast that morning he had mentioned going for coffee after school, before he had Warblers practice, a venture that Kurt was doing his best, and doing fairly well, at being excited and not nervous for.

When Kurt had admitted that he'd never had coffee before Blaine's eyebrows had shot up comically high on forehead in bewilderment. Kurt get couldn't over how expressive his face was. It was strange to him for someone to be so open with their emotions.

Kurt had agreed, of course, and Blaine's face had broken into that easy grin, his warm eyes catching Kurt's for a moment. That was even stranger, Kurt had never thought of eyes as warm before, hadn't even entertained the thought that they could be.

He had had the mind to tell Blaine so but at that moment David, who had been sitting on the other side of Blaine, had reached a hand up and rumpled his hair vigorously. Blaine had looked aghast as he quickly tried to set it right, giving David a shoulder and sending a somewhat embarrassed glance Kurt's way for reasons he couldn't imagine.

An unfamiliar but pleasant sensation had tugged at the corners of Kurt's mouth as he tucked his face back into his chest, prepared to keep to himself for the rest of the meal now that Blaine was otherwise occupied. A moment late however Wes was engaging him in a stunted (on his part) conversation about the instruments he could play.

Kurt continued to replay the morning in his mind. They were entertaining thoughts, certainly, but the fact of the matter was his hand had dipped the brush into the orange, and was now making curved strokes against his own accord. And thinking didn't keeping his eyes from gazing over them. They began to move and grow before his eyes, invading his mind and pulling him away…

_Chaos. Complete and utter chaos had exploded around him. The faces that raced past him were so distorted by smoke and hysteria that he couldn't even recognize any of them._

_He ran against the tide, calling, screaming, even as the smoke ate at his throat. He didn't understand how this happened, how it _could_ get so out of hand. He felt betrayed by the flames._

_Distantly he was aware of someone calling his name, but it wasn't the right voice, so he continued to surge forward desperately, searching._

_Somewhere the music he'd been practicing a new routine for echoed impossibly loud through the din, filling up his mind._

"What are you humming?"

Kurt jumped, Jeff had suddenly appeared at his side, pulling him so abruptly out of this thoughts it made his head spin.

He shook his head to try to refocus himself, "Sorry, what?"

"What was that song you were humming? I don't think I've heard it before, or at least I can't place it."

_Shit. Shit. Shit._ Kurt panicked internally. He wasn't supposed to be doing that.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I….didn't realize I was humming?" It came out as an awkward question.

Jeff's eyebrows pinched together for a second in the way that let Kurt know he had something strange, even if he didn't say so.

"It's fine. Just sounded like a cool tune, maybe a little bit creepy but in a good way, like it would make some sick harmonies."

"Oh. Yes, I suppose, so."

"Interesting." The boys started slightly as the Owl had appeared out of nowhere, standing over Kurt's should, opposite Jeff, and gazing at his painting. "Intense, the eyes in particular."

Kurt turned to his gaze to his work, having forgotten it almost completely in the wanderings of his mind. The canvas was covered vibrant flames. There was a red misshapen form in the middle and above it were two coal black eyes. The second Kurt looked at them they seared into him in a more real way then actual flames ever could. His head snapped down and he jerked back very slightly as his breath came faster.

Jeff on the other hand was leaning in and running his hand over the paint where it had dried with a bit of impressed wonder on his face. "Woah Kurt, are you sure you've never done this before? These flames are practically coming off the page!"

With great concentration Kurt let out a shaky, "No, this is the first time," while all his muscles remained rigid.

Jeff turned his head and frowned when he noticed Kurt's tense posture.

"You okay Kurt?"

Kurt nodded stiffly but did not move the otherwise.

Jeff cast him a concerned a glance at the Owl, who was just gazing at Kurt's work, looking as unperturbed as ever.

Shrugging Jeff said, "Well, I'm caked in clay so I'm just gonna clean up then we can go, 'kay Kurt?"

Kurt nodded and Jeff walked away to the sinks.

"We should put this on the drying rack," the Owl said pointing at that painting.

"You were right." Kurt said.

"Hmm?"

Kurt looked up slightly, at the flames around the edges of the painting, actively avoiding the eyes before continuing, "About the thinking thing, just letting your hands follow, it really works."

"I find most things can be solved by not thinking about them directly," she noted in a casual tone.

Kurt raised one hand to the painting and stoked the flames. He moved to the center and drew his finger along the outline of the red and a sense of a longing filled him. But as he neared the top, where he knew the eyes sat, he dropped his hand and looked away again.

"You don't need to dry it. You can just throw it out. I don't want it."

Half of him, the part still unable to believe that he could produce anything of value, expected her to just accept that.

The other half expected her to give sickly sweet praise to change his mind about it as Miss Rowe and her colleagues had made a habit of whenever he expressed negativity.

Her actual response was distinctively different.

"No? I quite like it, might I keep it?"

A small spread on Kurt's face. It was strange, it was easy for him to brush of direct compliment; something being "good" didn't make it good enough. But he could put no edits or restrictions on someone liking something, having no right to edit their opinion. He thought perhaps it was the best, most sincere feeling praise he'd ever received.

Kurt met her gaze with a sigh of relief when her eyes didn't sear into him. Nodding slightly he murmured a soft "Thank you," and nodding.

She smiled back gently at him, a smile that didn't break across her face and gush joy like Blaine's, Kurt noticed, but managed to give him a similar calming comforting feeling.

"No, thank you," she said pulling the painting of the easel and sweeping away towards the dry racks on the far side of the room.

Conveniently, Jeff had just finished cleaning up and arrived back at his side.

"Ready to go?"

"Yes," Kurt replied, attempting to mimic the small gentle smile at the Owl's back before turning and following Jeff out the door.

_I think I like art._

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><p><strong>If anyone is interested, the song Kurt was humming is "Drumming Song" by Florence and the Machines<strong>


	10. Chapter 9

**I have no excuses, so I shan't try to make them. Thank you to everyone whose still here, you're more patient than me. Onwards!**

A few hours later found Kurt sitting on the front steps of Dalton waiting for Blaine to get out of his last class.

The bell rang and moments later Blaine came out of the door, nearly tumbling over Kurt where he sat.

"Oh, hey Kurt!" he exclaimed, gripping Kurt's shoulders as he righted himself. "You weren't waiting long were you, I tried to get here as quick as possible. I swear that was the longest hour of my life. Mr. Burns shouldn't not be allowed to—what?"

He stopped when saw Kurt, who had stood once Blaine released him, biting his lip.

"Nothing." Kurt shook his head. "I don't think I was waiting long, but I guess I don't really know. I took my school stuff back to my room after my Biology class then walked around a bit and ended up here," he shrugged.

"Oh, ok. Shall we then?" Blaine held his arm out, gesturing for Kurt to go ahead of him with a grin, and they headed towards the parking lot. "So how was your first full day?"

Kurt had found this to be quite common question for most people. He still didn't quite understand why they found it so interesting when most days, especially for him, were essentially the same. But at least he had enough practice to know how to answer it. Ms. Rowe had started their session every day with it after all.

"It went fine. Art was interesting. I didn't have that yesterday. I—" Kurt hesitated, wondering if perhaps this was a bit to self assuming or promoting, but somehow he felt like Blaine would like to know. "They didn't have enough pottery wheels, so I painted. I've never done that before but Jeff says I'm good."

"Oooh! A hidden artist! You would be full of mysterious talents, wouldn't you Kurt Hummel?" Blaine laughed.

"Oh, umm, yes?" Kurt responded. He wasn't quite sure what Blaine meant by that. It probably wasn't bad though, right?

Blaine shuffled ahead of Kurt and opened the passenger door to his car as they approached. "Your chariot awaits, my liege." _Seriously!?_ Blaine berated himself in his mind. _Be a little more cheesy why don't you!_

Kurt just kind of cocked his head at him though, "Uh, what?"

Blaine ducked his head blushing, Kurt looked really cute when he cocked his head. "Nothing," Blaine shook his head, he never realized how big he was on expressions, he really need to work on that. "It's just a silly saying, basically a fancy way of saying get in," Blaine smiled in a way he hoped was charming.

Kurt nodded, clearly tucking away the phrase for future reference, before sliding in swiftly. Blaine closed the door and ran around to his side, hopping in and turning the car on. "What's your favorite genre of music, Kurt?" he asked, flipping through the songs on his Ipod as he plugged it in.

"Oh," Kurt said, seeming caught off guard, "I'm sure whatever you like is fine."

"C'mon Kurt, I like everything on here and I've probably got at least a little of practically everything."

"Everything?" Kurt said glancing at the Ipod with curiosity.

"Pretty much, so what'll it be?"

"Could you just put it on shuffle?" Kurt asked looking unsure, like he usually did when he was asking someone else to do something. "I-uh—didn't get a lot of variety in the music I listened to up until a couple months ago. I've been trying to explore the different types, um, genres?" he glanced at Blaine out of the side of his eye for confirmation.

Blaine nodded. "Sure thing," he said as he pressed the shuffle button and pulled out. "You tell me if anything stands out to you and I can give it to you, okay?"

Kurt looked over at him eyes wide, "Really?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Thank you." Kurt said sincerely. He smiled a small excited smile, that may or may not have made Blaine smile, as he turned to study the picture of the album cover of the song playing. He touched the screen so it lit up and he could read the band and song name and lay back in the seat and closed his eyes, listening, the corners of his mouth still turned up slightly.

_Kurt should smile more,_ Blaine thought._ Why is there not a team of people employed to make Kurt smile_? Blaine wondered, barely containing a snort at how much he sounded like a crushing schoolboy.

Blaine smirked when the next song came around and hummed softly for a bit before he started to sing along, gaining volume as the song built. He could feel Kurt's gaze on him but kept his gaze focused ahead until he pulled into the parking lot of the Lima Bean just as the song was ending. When he did look over though he found Kurt's gaze to be intense, and bordering on pained.

"Was I that bad?" he questioned.

"Hm?" Kurt started shaking his head as if pulled out of deep thought, his expression returning to neutral with a slight hint of apologetic. "Oh, no, no, not at all, sorry, I didn't I meant to, I was just, thinking. I was just thinking. Do you, only do you do that a lot?"

Blaine furrowed his eyebrows, "Do what?"

"Sing," Kurt specified, "In the car, to random songs that come on?"

"Oh," Blaine said trying to keep the bewilderment from his voice, "Yeah, all the time. It's a fun way to pass time in the car, you know?"

"Yeah," Kurt responded, but his eyes were downcast and distant, a faint crease pulling his eyebrows together.

"Kurt?" Blaine questioned as he pulled into a parking spot, turning towards him in effort to pull him back from wherever his thoughts had taken him.

"Sorry," Kurt said, turning his head so it was in line with Blaine, but slowly so, keeping his gaze down and distant, returning his attention to the present, but no losing his thought. "It's just, well, I miss singing, but Miss Rowe says I shouldn't perform and I want to do what she wants but, maybe that would be okay?" His gaze flickered up, looking for confirmation.

A second passes where their eyes meet before there's a flash of realization and Kurt's eyes widen. "Oh, no! I don't know if I was supposed to say that, was that a weird thing to say? Are you freaked out? Oh no, oh dear, what am I—"

Blaine set a hand on Kurt's shoulder to try and pause his speech; he tried to make it very gentle but Kurt jumped dramatically at the touch all the same.

"Sorry," Blaine said, pulling his hand back immediately and holding both up in the air, " I was just trying to get your attention. Listen, Kurt," Blaine said, lowering his hands slowly as Kurt's shoulders settled back down and his breath evened out from getting worked up. "nothing you said was that weird, confusing sure, but nothing to 'freak out' over," Blaine assured, making quotation marks in the air at Kurt's terminology.

Kurt nodded, but the set of his brow told Blaine he was still uneasy.

"If you want," he continued, "I can pretend like it didn't happen. Will never mention it, promise!" Blaine mimed locking his mouth and throwing away the key.

Kurt, watching him through his lashes, scrunching his eyebrows together at the gesture, but before Blaine could explain a small quick of Kurt's lips made him decide to let it go. "Okay," Kurt agreed, "yes, thank you, I think that would be good."

"Of course," Blaine responded, moving to open the door then turning back, "but, just one thing before we let it go," Blaine paused , allowing Kurt a chance to stop him, but he just nodded. "I don't know exacting what's going on with this whole not being allowed to sing or able or whatever, but if you miss it, I think you should get to. So I would say definitely ask this Miss Rowe about it. I highly doubt she'll have any problem with it."

Kurt shook his head, letting out a small short breath that Blaine supposed was supposed to be a laugh. "I don't know about that," Blaine opened his mouth to respond but surprisingly Kurt cut him off with a small shake of his head, "It's complicated, but I'll ask her."

"Good," Blaine smiled, getting out of the car and running around to open Kurt's door.

"So, coffee," Blaine said as they stood in front of a counter looking up at a board in the crowded little shop, "is one of the greatest delicacies that has ever graced this earth. Your life is about to be made Kurt Hummel. Any idea what you'd like to try?"

Kurt stared up at the board, his head swimming at the quantity of options. "I really don't know. What are you-"

He cut off as a little girl ran past his leg, shrieking. His eyes followed her, his body turning automatically. She looked back with bright brown eyes, full of excitement not terror, but the shade was reminiscent all the same. And then someone bumped roughly into him from behind, hands coming up to grip him around the shoulders to steady him before moving past. Kurt's eyes clamped shut, trying not to see.

Trying not to see brown eyes _burning _with terror. Trying to see them panic as her hands tugged at the bars in desperation, she knew they would not budge. Trying to avoid the arms waiting to clamp around him and pull him back as he watched the realization dawn in her eyes.

He felt the hand on his shoulder and ripped out of its grasp, _not again_.

Blaine had been trying to ask Kurt if he'd rather something try something fancy and less strong or just plain, when he had frozen up, eyes closing while his one hand gripped the edge of the counter so tight his knuckles were white. Blaine had tried saying his name several times before giving up and tentatively placing a hand on his shoulder. Kurt's eyes had flown open and he had violently knocked it away as he stumbled back against the counter.

"Woah there," Blaine said, stretching his arms out, making sure not to touch him but ready to catch him if he fell. He looked unsteady after all, his eyes darting around while his chest rose and fell in visible heaves. "Hey, you alright?'

Kurt's eyes locked onto Blaine's for only a second before they dropped, but that was all it took for Kurt to bring himself back. He pushed himself up from the counter and eased his breath.

"Yeah, sorry, just, got a little faint…hot, it's hot…"

It wasn't really, neither in the coffee house, nor outside where a crisp fall breeze was present. But still, there was sweat trickling down the back of Kurt's neck. He felt suffocated by the layers of his uniform. He swiftly undid the buttons of his blazer and shrugged it off, placing it over his arm and loosening his tie in the same go.

Blaine looked at him concerned. "Are you sure you're alright. Do you get hot flashes?"

Kurt shook his head, breathing out slowly. "I'm fine. I think I'll just go sit down for a minute. Excuse m-"

Kurt had started walking backwards towards the tables while still talking to Blaine. Just as he was stepping out of the congestion of the line, a woman, scurrying her way along to the table with the lids and stirrers, stepped into his path. Her coffee, still steaming, poured out onto his lower back and seeped through his white dress shirt and undershirt easily, letting out a light but sharp hiss as it soaked into the skin there.

The woman stared at him horrified. Blaine rushed over to him, hands moving frantically but pointlessly through the air as he asked if Kurt was okay. And Kurt? Kurt blinked once slowly before saying very calmly to Blaine, "Could you excuse me for a moment, please? I need to go wash that off." And then he walked swiftly over to the bathroom, before the woman could even get out a distressed 'I'm so sorry, let me-', leaving Blaine staring wide eyed after him.

Kurt closed the door firmly behind him, turning to press his forehead into it, letting his blazer fall to the ground. He could feel the rawness of the skin where the coffee was simmering. The pain barely phased him, but he feared intensely what it would look like when he removed his shirt.

He could not believe he'd gotten burned _now. _After everything. The irony of it was incredible. The feeling of bitterness, unfamiliar and unbidden twisted his stomach. He felt the urge to go into one of the stalls and allow his lunch to heave itself up as it seemed intent on doing, but quelled it. He'd dealt with much worse; there was no reason to get so worked up. He walked over to the mirror, facing away from it. He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, pausing at the bottom. Then he raised trembling hands to the collar and tugged it down an inch, two-

There came a soft knock on the door, and Kurt jerked that shirt back up. The door swung open slowly to reveal Blaine. "Kurt, are you sure you're alright? That coffee looked really h-"

Blaine choked on his words when he saw Kurt, standing in the middle of the bathroom, his shirt hanging open on the front side, and wet and clinging to him on the back. "H-hot," he stuttered out. "Here, I um, brought you an extra shirt I had in my car," he said holding out one of the T-shirts he kept in the back, just in case.

"Oh," Kurt said, staring at the shirt as though dazed for a moment before responding. "Oh, no, I couldn't. It's fine, I'll just wring this out and—"

"Kurt, take it," Blaine insisted.

Kurt reached out to take it, his shirt falling down his shoulder a bit. Blaine eyes followed it, trailing down the curve of Kurt's upper left bicep where it fell. Somehow he had managed to neglect how muscular Kurt was despite his leanness. As Kurt drew the T-shirt back to himself he pulled the sides of his shirt together, the motion recovering his shoulder.

The movement made Blaine realize where his eyes had been lingering, and he snapped them back to Kurt's face, trying not to blush.

Kurt, for his part, was clutching the shirt to his chest and looking incredibly tense as he stuttered, "Could you—I need to—maybe if you—I, uh, I don't want anyone to see me," Kurt sighed in a small voice, holding the shirt up.

Blaine felt a jerk of shame at his insensitivity. Here Kurt was, exposed, clearly uncomfortable, probably in pain, and he was ogling at him; though admittedly he hadn't seemed to notice.

"Yeah, of course, sorry. I'll just wait outside and make sure no one comes in," Blaine said, turning around promptly and letting himself out.

Kurt sighed, feeling guilty for making Blaine leave as he turned back to the mirror and set the shirt on the sink. On one hand he felt no right to think of, let alone ask for such privacy. But between his allegiance to the authority of Miss Rowe, who had advised keeping his…_markings_ hidden, and the fear that filled him at even the thought of the sight of the burn on his skin, he didn't really have a choice. The words had tumbled out somewhat unbidden.

Shaking his head he pressed him palms into his eyes and turned so the mirror was at his side. After a moment he lowered his hands enough to take his shirt off, in one swift motion this time. Without pausing, he gripped the hem of his undershirt and pulled it over his head, paying no mind to the way it stuck to and tugged at the raw, sensitive skin on his back.

He tossed it on the floor beside him with the dress shirt and stood completely still for a long moment. Eyes closed, fists clenching and unclenching. Taking a deep breath he opened his eyes slowly and saw…

Grey. Grey tiles. Right, his head was bent toward the floor.

He raised it slowly until he could see his reflection in the mirror from the side. He'd meant to start from the top of his back and ease his way down to prepare himself, but the patch of angry red flesh drew his gaze straight to it. It was shiny, like it was wet, despite the way the edges were cracked and dry. There were two small blisters on the left where the coffee cup had pressed into him as it poured, surrounded by a circle of bright red. It faded towards pink at the edges, but even there the contrast was startling with his pale skin. Marred. Disgusting.

_**H**_**e's** _going to be _so_ angry._

The thought burst into Kurt's mind and he fell to his knees as though hit by a strong blow. The association reaction fresh and poignant even though he'd kept his skin unblemished for years. He'd learned quickly when he was young how to be careful. How to avoid things like this. He'd had to.

He tried to take a deep breath. Tried to tell himself that it was just an accident. That it wasn't his fault. That it'd heal in a week and **he'd** probably never even know.

But the chant went on in his head, paralyzing all reasoning. _So angry, so angry, angry._ The repetition continued until the words weren't distinct, but a constant hum, and still longer until another voice replaced it. Rougher. Quieter. And so, so angry.

"_What did I tell you? Do you listen to me at all? Or do you just like being—"_

"Kurt?" Blaine knocking on the door drew Kurt back. "Everything okay in there? Do you need help?"

Kurt shook his head standing up quickly. "No, I'll be out in a second he said." He grabbed a couple paper towels, wet them slightly and ran them over the burn, the wave of pain clearing his thoughts. Then he pulled the t-shirt over the tender skin, grabbed his clothes of the floor, and opened the door to Blaine.

"Sorry," he said, not sure how long he'd taken.

"No worries, are you sure you're alright? We can go if you want?"

Kurt shook his head. "No, no, I'm fine. You were so excited about me trying coffee, I want to do it."

Blaine looked at him doubtfully but nodded. "Alright. Why don't you just go grab a seat for us and I'll get the coffee. Did you see anything that perked your interest before, you know?" Blaine gestured at the clothes in Kurt's hand.

"No. I'm sure whatever you're having is fine, if that's okay?"

"Of course, I'll be right back."

Kurt nodded and went to sit down at the first empty table he could find. As his mind wandered he wished he'd had the nerve to insist upon accompanying Blaine. He was restless, trying to keep his thoughts from running away from him, again. He raised a hand to run through his hair and dropped it back down on the table heavily. He itched to drum his fingers against the table top like he'd seen Blaine as he dazed off in history, but was afraid of disturbing the customers around him, even if such tapping would have been nearly impossible to discern amongst the chatter and scraping of chairs.

Just as Kurt was about to give in and go find Blaine, he appeared at the table, two tightly lidded cups in hand.

"Alright, two medium drips. Basic, but a good introduction to coffee. And of course you can add cream and sugar if you want," Blaine said sitting down.

Kurt pulled the cup across the table to himself. "Thank you," he said quietly, his eyes, which had been flickering around the room on Blaine's trip back from the line, now trained firmly on the cup, and the steam rising from the little whole in the lid. Blaine had surprised but pleased when Kurt had said he didn't want to go home after the incident. Now as he took in the tenseness of Kurt's posture he wondered if he should have insisted that they do this another time. It was hardly turning out how he'd planned. Still, if Kurt was still up to trying, perhaps he could salvage the experience.

"Of course," Blaine said warmly.

Kurt took a tentative sip of the coffee. Blaine watched, telling himself it was for his reaction, and not because of the way his lips pressed flush against the cup as he did so, but Kurt's face gave away nothing as he swallowed.

"So?"

"It's good," Kurt nodded assuredly, shoulders dropping marginally, but still tense, "very good."

"Fantastic," Blaine said in a perhaps overdoing it cheerful voice as he watched Kurt swirl the cup before taking another sip. "Lots of coffee dates in our future then Mr. Hummel, I come here either before or after Warblers practice almost every day," Blaine chatted as he removed the lid from his coffee and stirred in a couple packet of sugar.

Kurt looked over at him as he did so, eyebrows furrowing. "That is, I mean if you want to?" Blaine stuttered out, backtracking and cheeks flaring as he realized the term coffee _date_ may have been coming on too strong.

"Yes, of course," Kurt said quickly, "I was just wondering, how is it different, with the sugar?" He gestured to the empty sugar packet besides Blaine's cup.

"Oh, just you know sweeter. I prefer it that way, some people don't. You can try some if you want," Blaine said, picking one out of the holder in the center of the table and holding it out to Kurt.

"Okay," Kurt said reaching out and taking the packet from Blaine. He flipped it in his hand to read the label. Then, as though remembering something, he jolted, dropping the packet and reaching into the pocket of his jacket. "The coffees! You must have had to pay for mine; I'm sorry. I didn't even think ab—"

"Kurt, it's fine," Blaine interrupted, "I'm more than happy to treat you to your first coffee."

"No, I couldn't. Here," Kurt said holding out a twenty.

"Okay, one, I don't know what kind of coffee you think you're drinking but it doesn't cost anywhere near that much," Blaine said pushing Kurt hand holding the bill back at him. "Second, I want to treat you Kurt. Please, let me do this."

Kurt drew his gaze to meet Blaine's. As always Blaine was unprepared but glad for the rare chance to really look into his eyes, the ever changing vibrant colors, currently cool blue with confliction. He stared at Blaine for a long moment. "Okay," he breathed. Then, with tangible and overwhelmingly sincere gratitude, "Thank you."

Blaine waved it off, trying to pretend that Kurt conceding didn't making him as happy as it did. Him paying for Kurt's coffee didn't necessarily make it a date after all._ Unfortunately._

Kurt turned his attention back to his coffee, picking up the sugar packet and stirring it in before taking an inquisitive sip.

His eyes widened, gaining back a little of the curious and wondrous light they often held that Blaine had become embarrassingly fond of. "Wow."

Blaine let out a light laugh as Kurt reached out for another sugar packet, but he froze half way there, looking halfway over at Blaine. "Could I—I mean may—can I have another?"

Blaine raised an eyebrow, "Yeah of course, I always take two. My cousin Lea uses five, now that's intense," he laughed taking a sip of his coffee as Kurt poured another packet into his own. Once it was mixed he took a large swig and actually smiled for the first time since they'd reached the coffee shop.

"Well, obviously someone has a sweet tooth," Blaine grinned, "I'll be right back."

Kurt watched him go, a little confused as to what he meant but too preoccupied with his new favorite drink to worry about it.

Blaine returned a moment later, setting a small plate down on the table. "Ever tried biscotti?"

Kurt looked at the plate and shook his head.

"They're a cookie that's really good dipped in coffee of tea. Try one," Blaine encouraged.

So Kurt did. And Blaine would swear Kurt's eyes actually sparkled when he bit into the coffee soaked cookie. There was something beautifully youthful and uninhibited about the hurried way he dipped it back into his coffee for another bite.

Blaine leaned back in his chair and watched as Kurt gleefully consumed the coffee and biscotti. Oh yeah, coffee dates were definitely gonna be a regular thing.


End file.
